You Are So Intense. Like A Storm.

But Be Careful; Sand Is Already Broken But Glass Breaks. The Shoes Are For Dancing, Not Running Away.

Sometimes A Wild Horse Needs To Feel That His Rider Is Just A Little Bit Wilder.

I Want To Be Untouchable And Beautiful And Completely Dead Inside.

What Happens To The Rest Of Something When You Smash Its Heart?

I Pounded Through The Houses, Staggering Down The Hallways, Falling Down The Steps. It Was A Hot Streaky Dawn Full Of Insecticides, Exhaust, Flowers That Could Make You Sick Or Fall In Love. My Battered Impala Was Still Parked There On The Side Of The Road And I Wanted To Lie Down On The Shredded Seats And Sleep And Sleep. But I Thought Of The Bones; I Could Hear Them Singing. They Needed Me To Write Their Song.