I Asked My Dad What

I Am Not Living The American Dream; I Am Living The American Fantasy.

Oh, God Above, If Heaven Has A Taste It Must Be An Egg With Butter And Salt, And After The Egg Is There Anything In The World Lovelier Than Fresh Warm Bread And A Mug Of Sweet Golden Tea?

The Sky Is The Limit. You Never Have The Same Experience Twice.

He Sits In An Old Armchair In The Corner Covered With Bits Of Blankets And A Bucket Behind The Chair That Stinks Enough To Make You Sick And When You Look At That Old Man In The Dark Corner You Want To Get A Hose With Hot Water And Strip Him And Wash Him Down And Give Him A Big Feed Of Rashers And Eggs And Mashed Potatoes With Loads Of Butter And Salt And Onions.i Want To Take The Man From The Boer War And The Pile Of Rags In The Bed And Put Them In A Big Sunny House In The Country With Birds Chirping Away Outside The Window And A Stream Gurgling.

I Had To Get Rid Of Any Idea Of Hell Or Any Idea Of The Afterlife. That's What Held Me, Kept Me Down. So Now I Just Have Nothing But Contempt For The Institution Of The Church.