I Just Want A Hot Cup Of

In The Morning It Was Morning And I Was Still Alive.

You Are On The Freeway Threading Through Traffic Now, Moving Both Towards Something And Towards Nothing At All As You Punch The Radio On And Get Mozart, Which Is Something, And You Will Somehow Get Through The Slow Days And The Busy Days And The Dull Days And The Hateful Days And The Rare Days, All Both So Delightful And So Disappointing Because We Are All So Alike And So Different.

If I Hadn't Been A Drunkard, I Probably Would Have Committed Suicide Long Ago.

Sometimes There's Luck, When There Is You Stock Up On It And Wait For The Other Times

If I Stop Writing I Am Dead. And That's The Only Way I'll Stop: Dead.