A book is to me like a hat or coat - a very uncomfortable thing until the newness has been worn off.
Charles B. Fairbanks
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Sunday Morning Call
Here's another Sunday morning call
Yer hear yer head-a-banging on the door
Slip your shoes on and then out you crawl
Into a day that couldn't give you more
But what for?
And in your head do you feel
What you're not supposed to feel
You take what you want
But you won't get it for free
You need more time
'cause your thoughts and words won't last forever more
But I'm not sure if it ever works out right
But it's ok. It's all right
When yer lonely and you start to hear
The little voices in your head at night
You will only sniff away the tears
So you can dance until the morning light
At what price?