I Don't Know What It Is With

The Air's Warm With Hopeful Hints Of Spring In It. Spring Would Be A Good Time For An Uprising, I Think. Everyone Feels Less Vulnerable Once Winter Passes.

In Other Words, I Step Out Of Line And We're All Dead.

We're Supposed To Be Making Up This Stuff, Playing At Being In Love, Not Actually Being In Love.

My Sleep Wasn't Peaceful, Though. I Have The Sense Of Emerging From A World Of Dark, Haunted Places Where I Traveled Alone.

In My Mind, President Snow Should Be Viewed In Front Of Marble Pillars Hung With Oversized Flags. It's Jarring To See Him Surrounded By The Ordinary Objects In The Room. Like Taking The Lid Off A Pot And Finding A Fanged Viper Instead Of Stew.