All our lives we sweat and save, Building for a shallow grave.

Blood is the rose of mysterious union.

I am interested in anything about revolt, disorder, chaos, especially activity that seems to have no meaning.

Where are the feasts we were promised? Where is the wine, the new wine, dying on the vine.

Out here on the perimeter there are no stars. Out here we is stoned. Immaculate.

The best songs just come unasked for. You don't have to think about them. Summer is a good time for songs.

It may have been in pieces, but I gave you the best of me.