What Is The Past, What Is It

Somewhere Someone Is Traveling Furiously Toward You, At Incredible Speed, Traveling Day And Night.

I Don't Want To Read What Is Going To Slide Down Easily; There Has To Be Some Crunch, A Certain Amount Of Resilience.

I Lost My Ridiculous Accent Without Acquiring Another

The Facts Of History Have Been Too Well Rehearsed.

If You Need A Certain Vitality You Can Only Supply It Yourself, Or There Comes A Point, Anyway, When No One's Actions But Your Own Seem Dramatically Convincing And Justifiable In The Plot That The Number Of Your Days Concocts.