I Say My Hell Is The Closet

I'm A Very Vicious Critic Of Myself.

Life Goes On, End Of Tunnel, Tv Set Spot In The Middle Static Fade, Statistic Bit And Soon I Fade Away, Fade Away

You Crush Me With The Things You Do, I Do For Anything Too...each Moment The More I Love You.

It's So Hard For Me To Even Acknowledge America Without Talking About Race. If You Look At Our Society, If You Look At The Prisons, If You Look At The Poverty And Which Side Of The Line The Majority Of People Are, We Have To Acknowledge How We Divide Ourselves Up, That There's Racism Alive In This Country. And It's Not In The Law. It's In Our Minds. And That's What We Have To Actively Battle.

I Think Making Things That Aren't Necessarily Shiny, Happy Feelings, Putting Them In That Environment Is Sometimes An Easy Way To Deal With The Ugliness. Like, I Know That As A Kid, That I Found - I Think I Learned This A Bit From My Mother - That If I Could Be As Warm Around Strangers, No Matter How Strange Or What Different Environment I Was In, That People Tended To Be Warm Back.