The Real Power Is In The Hands

Nothing Is Better, Nothing Is Best, Take Heed Of This And Get Plenty Of Rest.

When I Think Of Mystery, I Don't Think About Myself. I Think Of The Universe, Like Why Does The Moon Rise When The Sun Falls? Caterpillars Turn Into Butterflies? I Really Haven't Remained A Recluse.

Take Me Disappearing, Through The Smoke Rings Of My Mind, Down The Foggy Ruins Of Time.

Crimson Flames Tied Through My Ears Rollin' High And Mighty Traps Pounced With Fire On Flaming Roads Using Ideas As My Maps "we'll Meet On Edges, Soon," Said I Proud 'neath Heated Brow. Ah, But I Was So Much Older Then, I'm Younger Than That Now. Half-wracked Prejudice Leaped Forth "rip Down All Hate," I Screamed Lies That Life Is Black And White Spoke From My Skull. I Dreamed Romantic Facts Of Musketeers Foundationed Deep, Somehow. Ah, But I Was So Much Older Then, I'm Younger Than That Now.

He Did Ten Years In Attica, Reading Nietzsche And Wilhelm Reich.