Blot Out The Moon, Pull Down The

Yes, I Am Sad, Sad As A Circus-lioness, Sad As An Eagle Without Wings, Sad As A Violin With Only One String And That One Broken, Sad As A Woman Who Is Growing Old. Sad, Sad, Sad.

Age Seldom Arrives Smoothly Or Quickly. It's More Often A Succession Of Jerks.

I Didn't Know, I Didn't Know, I Didn't Know.

I Would Never Be Part Of Anything. I Would Never Really Belong Anywhere, And I Knew It, And All My Life Would Be The Same, Trying To Belong, And Failing. Always Something Would Go Wrong. I Am A Stranger And I Always Will Be, And After All I Didn’t Really Care.

I Long To Be ... Like Other People! The Extraordinary, Ungetatable, Oddly Cruel Other People, With Their Way Of Wantonly Hurting And Then Accusing You Of Being Thin-skinned, Sulky, Vindictive Or Ridiculous.