And Don't You Know That God Is

Don't Tell Them Too Much About Your Soul. They're Waiting For Just That.

And Before Me Was The Great Raw Bulge And Bulk Of My American Continent; Somewhat Far Across, Gloomy, Crazy New York Was Throwing Up Its Cloud Of Dust And Brown Steam. There Is Something Brown And Holy About The East; And California Is White Like Washlines And Emptyheaded - At Least That's What I Thought Then.

I Pictured Myself In A Denver Bar That Night, With All The Gang, And In Their Eyes I Would Be Strange And Ragged And Like The Prophet Who Has Walked Across The Land To Bring The Dark Word, And The Only Word I Had Was 'wow!

I Just Won't Sleep," I Decided. There Were So Many Other Interesting Things To Do.

And The Story Of Love Is A Long Sad Tale Ending In Graves.