You drew a bird that was here, a kind of sweet chanticleer. But with a terrible fear that the cage couldn’t tame

The Moth don’t care when he sees The Flame. He might get burned, but he’s in the game. And once he’s in, he can’t go back, he’ll Beat his wings ’til he burns them black…...

All that I need now is someone with the brains and the know-how to tell me what I want.

Something gets lost when you translate. It’s hard to keep straight. Perspective is every thing.

Better take the keys and drive forever. Staying won’t put these futures back together. All the perfect drugs and superheroes wouldn’t be enough to bring me back to zero.

I suppose I should be happy to be misread; better be that than some of the other things I have become.

The king of the jailhouse and the queen of the road think sharing the burden will lighten the load.

Nightly you retrace your steps again to return to the scene of the crime. It’s uncanny how you hover in the air of the wreckage that you left behind.

But I can’t confront the doubts I have.I can’t admit that maybe the past was bad,and so, for the sake of momentumI’m condemning the future to deathso it can match the past.

Say you were split, you were split in fragments and none of the pieces would talk to you. Wouldn’t you want to be who you had been? Well, maybe I’d want that too.

I think, to be happy is to be interested and engaged.

There comes a time when you swim or sink so I jumped in the drink ’cause I couldn’t make myself clear. Maybe I wrote in invisible ink, oh I’ve tried to think how I could’ve...

It’s not easy in this phosphorescent gloom telling waking dreams apart anyhow.