At First First Nothing Will Happen To

Poetry Is Just The Evidence Of Life. If Your Life Is Burning Well, Poetry Is Just The Ash.

I Want To Be Paid For My Work, Not Work For My Pay.

Well I See You There With The Rose In Your Teeth One More Thin Gypsy Thief... Yes, And Thanks, For The Trouble You Took From Her Eyes I Thought It Was There For Good So I Never Tried... And Jane Came By With A Lock Of Your Hair She Said That You Gave It To Her That Night That You Planned To Go Clear.

It's Four In The Morning, The End Of December I'm Writing You Now Just To See If You're Better.

Dream After Dream We All Lie In Each Other's Arms