You walk into the room like a camel and then put your eyes in your pockets and your nose on the ground.

They self-inflict punishment on their own broken lives, put their faith in their possessions, in their jobs, or their wives.

You get older. You start having hopes for other people rather than yourself.

You had no faith to lose and you know it.

Jesus, that ear. He should donate it to The Smithsonian. Brian Wilson, he made all his records with four tracks, but you couldn't make his records if you had a hundred tracks today.

Then take me disappearin' through the smoke rings of my mind, Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves, The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach, Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow. Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free, Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands, With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves, Let me forget about today until tomorrow.

But I would not feel so all alone, everybody must get stoned.