There Still Might Be A Place For

I Tell You Such Fine Music Waits In The Shadows Of Hell.

In The Morning It Was Morning And I Was Still Alive.

It's Just That The Grape Has Me Down.

A Dry Period For Me Means Perhaps Going Two Or Three Nights Without Writing. I Probably Have Dry Periods But I'm Not Aware Of Them And I Go On Writing, Only The Writing Probably Isn't Much Good.

We're All Going To Die, All Of Us, What A Circus! That Alone Should Make Us Love Each Other But It Doesn't. We Are Terrorized And Flattened By Trivialities, We Are Eaten Up By Nothing.