Lying on stained, wretched sheets with a bleeding virgin We could plan a murder Or start a religion.

Love cannot save you from your own fate.

Between childhood, boyhood, adolescence & manhood (maturity) there should be sharp lines drawn w/ Tests , deaths, feats, rites stories, songs, & judgements.

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

Rather than starting inside, I start outside and reach the mental through the physical.

There may be a time when we'll attend Weather Theaters to recall the sensation of rain.

How can I set free anyone who doesn't have the guts to stand up alone and declare his own freedom?