Oh, My Tattered Rags Are Caught On

Singing Is The Lowest Form Of Communication.

I've Always Wondered If There Was A God. And Now I Know There Is -- And It's Me.

Like A Girl, A Baby Running After Her Mother, Begging To Be Picked Up, And She Tugs On Her Skirts, Holding Her Back As She Tries To Hurry Off—all Tears, Fawning Up At Her, Till She Takes Her In Her Arms… That’s How You Look, Patroclus, Streaming Live Tears.

For A Friend With An Understanding Heart Is Worth No Less Than A Brother

God Help Me, I'm Just Not That Bright.