It Was So Much Easier To Be

He Fell In Love With Manhattan's Skyline, Like A First-time Brothel Guest Falling For A Seasoned Professional. He Mused Over Her Reflections In The Black East River At Dusk, Dawn, Or Darkest Night, And Each Haloed Light-in A Tower Or Strung Along The Jeweled And Sprawling Spider Legs Of The Brooklyn Bridge's Spans-hinted At Some Meaning, Which Could Be Understood Only When Made Audible By Music And Encoded In Lyrics.

How Much Of Life Could He Spend Aching? Aching Is Not A Stable Condition; It Must Resolve Into Something

You Deicde, And You Make Our Night What You Want. Brilliant And Ours. Stupid And Theirs.

Love Is Not Sufficient. It Never Has Been. Stories That Claim Otherwise Are Lies. There's Always Something After Happily Ever After.

There Are Few Things More Pleasing Than The Contemplation Of Order And Useful Arrangement.