There Doesn't Seem To Be Any Tomorrow.

Well, I Don't Know, But I've Been Told The Streets In Heaven Are Lined With Gold. I Ask You How Things Could Get Much Worse If The Russians Happen To Get Up There First; Wowee! Pretty Scary!

We Have Never Arrived. We Are In A Constant State Of Becoming.

I Dug It, New York City, All-the Streets And The Snows And The Starving And The Five-flight Walkups And Sleeping In Rooms With Ten People. I Dug The Trains And The Shadows, The Way I Dug Ore Mines And Coal Mines. I Just Jumped Right To The Bottom Of New York.

There's Beauty In The Silver Singing River There's Beauty In The Sunrise In The Sky But None Of These And Nothing Else Can Match The Beauty That I Remember In My True Love's Eyes

All I Can Do Is Be Me, Whoever That Is.