I'll Be Selling Tickets For My Next

How Many A Year Has Passed And Gone And Many Gamble Has Been Lost And Won, And Many A Road Taken By A Friend And Each One I've Never Seen Again.

A Poem Is A Naked Person.

Yes, To Dance Beneath The Diamond Sky With One Hand Waving Free, Silhouetted By The Sea, Circled By The Circus Sands

There Are Degrees Of Happiness. You Go From One To The Other And Then Back Again. It's Hard To Be Completely Happy When Those Around Us Are Suffering And Groaning From Hunger.

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.