The Times You Impress Me The Most

They Used To Laugh At Me When I Refused To Ride On All Those Double Decker Buses, All Because There Was No Driver On The Top.

We're Captive On The Carousel Of Time, We Can't Return We Can Only Look Behind.

Rolling Stone Hates Me. They Must Have An Editorial Policy To Do Me In For Many Years.

Augustine, Anne Sexton And Sylvia Plath Are Confessional Writers And All Three Make Me Sick. I Have Nothing In Common With Them.

The Hollywood Sirens Are Shrieking, While Down Some Search Lit Alley Runs Some Lost Belief.