I'm Afraid To Breathe In Case I

Must Protect My Little Pockets Of Happiness.

The Sky The Sky- Same As It Always Was.

Why The Hell Shouldn't I Run Away With The Circus?

Sometimes I Think If I Had To Choose Between An Ear Of Corn Or Making Love To A Woman, I'd Choose The Corn.

I Used To Think I Preferred Getting Old To The Alternative, But Now I'm Not Sure. Sometimes The Momotony Of Bingo And Sing-alongs And Ancient Dusty People Parked In The Hallway In Wheelchairs Makes Me Long For Death. Particularly When I Rememver That I'm One Of The Ancient Dusty People, Filed Away Like Some Worthless Tchotchke.