Your Nightmares Follow You Like A Shadow,

Our Daughter Was Born In Chicago, And She's Already Showing It. The Temperature Has To Be Approaching Zero For Her To Wear A Hat.

I Cannot Stand That Whole Game Of Confession, That Is: Here I Have Sinned, Now I'm Confessing My Sins, And Describing My Path Of Sin And Then In The Act Of Confession I Beg For Your Forgiveness And Redemption.

Home Is Where Somebody Notices When You Are No Longer There.

Time Does Nothing But Hand You Down Shabbier And Older Things.

To Write Has To Be Related To A Drive Inside.