You Aren't Sick & Unhappy Only Alive

We Thought We Had Such Problems. How Were We To Know We Were Happy?

But People Will Do Anything Rather Than Admit That Their Lives Have No Meaning. No Use, That Is. No Plot.

You Can Wipe Your Feet On Me, Twist My Motives Around All You Like, You Can Dump Millstones On My Head And Drown Me In The River, But You Can’t Get Me Out Of The Story. I’m The Plot, Babe, And Don’t Ever Forget It.

Your Hand Is A Warm Stone I Hold Between Two Words.

I Didn't Much Like It, This Grudge-holding Against The Past.