The Older I Get, The Surer I

All The Lousy Little Poets Coming Around Trying To Sound Like Charles Manson.

What [prozac] Does Is Completely Annihilate The Sexual Drive, So The Question Of Passion Hardly Arises.

It Just Takes A Long Time For Me [to Write A Song]. I'm Very Slow. And It Comes, Kind Of, By Dribbles And Drops.

Dance Me To Your Beauty With A Burning Violin Dance Me Through The Panic 'til I'm Gathered Safely In Lift Me Like An Olive Branch And Be My Homeward Dove Dance Me To The End Of Love

Although Only One Man May Be Receiving The Favors Of A Woman, All Men In Her Presence Are Warmed.