You've Got A Deadline. Well, I Do,

And I'll Bury My Soul In A Scrapbook, With The Photographs There And The Moths.

When You're Not Feeling Holy, Your Loneliness Says That You've Sinned.

You Have Money, Fame, Youth, Beauty, Talent. That's A Good Start... For Feeling Good.

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

No One Masters The Heart.