He Swift Don't Win The Race. It

The Ghosts Race Towards The Light, You Can Almost Hear The Heavy Breathing Spirits, All Determined To Get Somewhere. New Orleans, Unlike A Lot Of Places You Go Back To And That Don't Have The Magic Anymore, Still Has Got It. Night Can Swallow You Up, Yet None Of It Touches You. You Can't See It, But You Know It's Here. Somebody's Always Sinking.

Madonna, She Still Has Not Showed, We See This Empty Cage Now Corrode, Where Her Cape Of The Stage Once Had Flowed, The Fiddler He Now Steps To The Road, On The Back Of The Fish Truck That Loads, While My Conscience Explodes.

Don't Put My Faith In Nobody, Not Even A Scientist.

You Shouldn't Let Other People Get Your Kicks For You.

I Saw Him Making Love To You, You Forgot To Close The Garage Door.