Even Castles Made Of Sand, Fall Into

Is This Love, Baby, Or Is This Just Confusion?

I Try To Get Up Every Day.

White Collar Conservative Flashin' Down The Street, Pointing That Plastic Finger At Me, Hoping Soon My Kind Will Drop And Die, But I'm Gonna Wave My Freak Flag High.

Anyway, You Know Good And Well It Would Be Beyond The Will Of God, And The Grace Of The King

Imagination Is The Key To My Lyrics. The Rest Is Painted With A Little Science Fiction.