Hold your head up to the gun of a million cathode ray tubes aired at your tiny skull.
I don't know about carry out, but you can carry me off to bed.
Too many temples where we could worship the beast.
Her legs went on forever, like staring at infinity through a wisp of cotton panty along a skin of satin sea.
Everyone's saved, we're in the grave. See you there for afternoon tea.
In your pomp and all your glory, you're a poorer man than me.