Some Formulas Are Too Complex And I

You Five And Ten Cent Women With Nothing In Your Heads, I Got A Real Gal I'm Loving And Lord I'll Love Her 'til I'm Dead.

I'm Not The Kind Of Cat That's Going To Cut Off An Ear If I Can't Do Something.

Shakespeare, He's In The Alley With His Pointed Shoes And His Bells, Speaking To Some French Girl Who Says She Knows Me Well.

Some Are Masters Of Illusions, Some Are Ministers Of Trade, All Under The Same Delusion, All Their Beds Unmade.

He Swift Don't Win The Race. It Goes To The Worthy, Who Can Divide The Word Of Truth.