set, in a classic radio But it's so clearly, so clearly inevitable And that's how the story goes.. Day by day, hour by hour Day by day, hour by hour
: Inside my loneliness and sorting through the mess I came across a bunch of snaps and letters I found an eight by ten, taken God knows when It took
blows side to side, you speak and make time stand still, and each time you walk right on by... Like violence you have me, forever, and after Like violence you
each star You're walking in dreams Whoever you are Chilled are the skies Keen is the frost The ground's froze hard And the morning is lost A letter
With his memories in a trunk Passed this way an hour ago With his friend, a jealous monk He looked so immaculately frightful As he bummed a cigarette
a babe in the arms of a woman in a rage And a longtime golden-haired stripper onstage And she winds back the clock and she turns back the page Of a book
You won't know you're born or about to pass on You'll never get tired You'll never get bored By the way I just hope you're insured And if you're not
hope you can't sleep and you dream about it And when you dream I hope you can't sleep and you SCREAM about it I hope your conscience EATS AT YOU and you
when we met in Denver - you said if I'd write you you would write back - see I'm just like you in a way I never knew my father neither; he used to always
With some or other passions I said you are a lady Perhaps she said I maybe We moved into a basement With thoughts of our engagement We stayed in by
get rid of these blues Got me stuck by the wayside In the wee wee hours Won't you spare this denier From the brimstone and the fire Lord won't you give
that you can cook a hog's ass in a spoonful. When a workin man such as myself wants a little hot fixin, I reach for that bottle of momma's God Damn Hot
Anticipating That loneliness finds a way Of changing your mind Waking up in strange rooms With hours left to kill Write down in a letter all those things you
fuckin' ridiculous All of them think your style is fuckin' nuts Well welcome to syphilis I usually grab a bitch by her weave Like bitch I told you to
With my right hand I open the door My mom welcomes me with a newspaper and a letter I see pictures of my father fetched down by shots In that moment I
With his memories in a trunk Passed this way an hour ago With his friend A jealous monk He looked So immaculately frightful As he bummed a cigarette Then
I'm bound to make a fan do the same thing Stan did in a letter I bounce with a bitch with a ounce on a trip Take her girlfriend, nut in they mouth when
: Just behind the station, before you reach the traffic island, a river runs thru' a concrete channel. I took you there once; I think it was after the
