The worth of a book is to be measured by what you can carry away from it.

James Bryce

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The Creator Has a Mastertape
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He captured and collected things
And he put them in a shed
He raised a proper family
So he could tie them to a bed
 
The creator had a master tape
But he left it in a cab
I stared into the void tonight
The best dream I ever had
 
He worked himself into the ground
And drove a spike into his head
A voice said lare you happy now?
Your sordid home is running red?
 
Pills and chloroform
All the pages torn