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Somewhere in the stratosphere we find so many little characters born of sugar.
Sugar junk in the magma in the lounge, and they come from all sides
To side large banks of retarded-cultured cocoa nuts
and then they went to the beach for the fires and the
We spoke briefly to the assailants and they agreed
that Rocky IV was the worst of species
And in later conversations we found that
firs and tea made all the set.

See! Even the devil can't resist JUNK!

My gums are BLEEDING!

Lady Fire is for infinity

It seems strange, to be on the bridge during the feast

Why do we capitulate,
When dawn takes us all?

Any psalms for the struggling alcoholic?