Do We Have To Confess Our Loves

If I Am An Angel, Paint Me With Black Wings.

From My Stone Pillow I Have Dreamed Dreams Of The Mortal World Above. I Have Heard Its Voices, Its New Music, As Lullabies As I Lie In My Grave. I Have Envisioned Its Fantastical Discoveries. I Have Known Its Courage In The Timeless Sanctum Of My Thoughts. And Though It Shuts Me Out With Its Dazzling Forms, I Long For One With The Strength To Roam It Fearlessly, To Ride The Devil's Road Through Its Heart.

Wasn't It His Right To Listen To Opera, Read Poetry And Adventure Novels, Go To Europe Every Couple Of Months For Some Reason Or Another, And Drive His Porsche Over The Speed Limit Until He Found Out Who He Was?

Memnoch The Devil Happen To Be My Favorite Of All The Vampire Chronicles.

And What If I Never Go Of My Own Free Will? Will You Pitch Me From Some Window So That I Must Fly Or Fall? Will You Bolt All Shutters After Me? You Had Better, Because I'll Knock And Knock And Knock Until I Fall Down Dead. I'll Have No Wings That Take Me Away From You.