Well you don't feel part of anything?
I'd say we all feel this way.
I can't find it in my box of tapes,
In sugar, milk and blood with tea.
In this fresh cut master of all our new claims,
Or the coming summer parade.
Kirkwood cat calls though a window,
And all my attempts at security,
They seem flights to other places forcing songs and
Just get me through this then I'll change I'll change.
Mary! Your new house is built concrete
From all the years the fears the sleep.
You found your way back to Chicago.
Pedaling help near Gaza.
I heard that you lost your finger!
I hope that you found that next singer.
It's not what we made, it's what we will make!
So here's a spectacular send off!
I know that you'll make the best of!
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