Prison is where you promise yourself the right to live.
ah, you always go for the ones who don't really want you
And I will die, and you will die, and we all will die, and even the stars will fade out one after another in time.
Desolation, desolation, I owe so much to desolation.
Holy flowers floating in the air, were all these tired faces in the dawn of Jazz America.
The only alternative to sleeping out, hopping freights, and doing what I wanted, I saw in a vision would be to just sit with a hundred other patients in front of a nice television set in a madhouse, where we could be "supervised."