My Death From The Wrists, Two Name

[i] Have Fantasies Of Killing Myself And Thus Being The Powerful One Not The Powerless One.

My Eyes, Those Sluts, Those Whores, Would Play No More.

Well, One Gets Out Of Bed And The Planets Don't Always Hiss Or Muck Up The Day, Each Day.

Put Your Ear Down Close To Your Soul And Listen Hard.

Oh Sharp Diamond, My Mother! I Could Not Count The Cost Of All Your Faces, Your Moods That Present That I Lost. Sweet Girl, My Deathbed, My Jewel-fingered Lady...