There Are Things I Could Say. But

There Ought To Be A Law About You Coming Around.

Night Can Swallow You Up, Yet None Of It Touches You. Around Any Corner, There's A Promise Of Something Daring And Ideal And Things Are Just Getting Going. There's Something Obscenely Joyful Behind Every Door, Either That Or Somebody Crying With Their Head In In Their Hands. A Lazy Rhythm Looms In The Dreamy Air And The Atmosphere Pulsates With Bygone Duels, Past-life Romance, Comrades Requesting Comrades To Aid Them In Some Way. You Can't See It, But You Know It's There

It Is The First Line That Gives The Inspiration And Then It's Like Riding A Bull. Either You Just Stick With It, Or You Don't.

Everyone Of Them Words Rang True And Glowed Like Burning Coal, Pouring Off Every Page Like It Was Written In My Soul From Me To You.

Let The Dead Bury The Dead, Your Time Will Come.