Deftly They Opened The Brain Of A

In A Murderous Time/the Heart Breaks And Breaks/and Lives By Breaking.

My Mother Never Forgave My Father

In Every House Of Marriage There's Room For An Interpreter.

It Is My Heart That's Late, It Is My Song That's Flown.

In My Darkest Night, When The Moon Was Covered And I Roamed Through Wreckage, A Nimbus-clouded Voice Directed Me: "live In The Layers, Not On The Litter." Though I Lack The Art To Decipher It, No Doubt The Next Chapter In My Book Of Transformations Is Already Written. I Am Not Done With My Changes.