Last Night I Walked Clear Down To

I'd Also Gone Through An Entire Year Of Celibacy Based On My Feeling That Lust Was The Direct Cause Of Birth Which Was The Direct Cause Of Suffering And Death.

It Was The Work Of The Quiet Mountains, This Torrent Of Purity At My Feet.

I Could Hear Dean, Blissful And Blabbering And Frantically Rocking. Only A Guy Who's Spent Five Years In Jail Can Go To Such Maniacal Helpless Extremes; Beseeching At The Portals Of The Soft Source, Mad With A Completely Phsycial Realization Of The Origins Of Life-bliss; Blindly Seeking To Return The Way He Came

I Promise I Shall Never Give Up, And That I'll Die Yelling & Laughing.

Don't Touch Me, I'm Full Of Snakes.