Idiot wind, blowing every time you open your mouth.

Everything passes, Everything changes, Just do what you think you should do.

Shakespeare, he's in the alley with his pointed shoes and his bells, speaking to some French girl who says she knows me well.

My guard stood hard when abstract threats, too noble to neglect, deceived me into thinking, I had something to protect.

Proud to steal her anything she sees, but you will wind up peeking through her key hole down upon your knees.

There are a lot of places I like, but I like New Orleans better.

Freedom just around the corner for you, but with the truth so far off, what good will it do?