There is nothing we have to do and too much,
We are vexed
By the mysteries of interpretation;
A good discription
Of growing up.
It's like we might not be wanted in this world at all
But in whose pocket
The secrecy of life.
For some unknown reason,
Such reasons are usually unkown,
We are delivered to life;
It doesn't come to us.
- Blame God
In the darkness of an empty dwelling, Cozy and dreadfully quiet, Is a young lost lady With many human weaknesses And whose temper tantrums are immoral. Beautiful dark skin girl with green eyes, Tall thin long arms and legs, Makes one...