I Did Not Just Fall

When God Had Made The Man, He Made Him Out Of Stuff That Sung All The Time And Glittered All Over. Some Angels Got Jealous And Chopped Him Into Millions Of Pieces, But Still He Glittered And Hummed. So They Beat Him Down To Nothing But Sparks But Each Little Spark Had A Shine And A Song. So They Covered Each One Over With Mud. And The Lonesomeness In The Sparks Make Them Hunt For One Another.

Everybody Has Some Special Road Of Thought Along Which They Travel When They Are Alone To Themselves. And His Road Of Thought Is What Makes Every Man What He Is.

It's A Funny Thing, The Less People Have To Live For, The Less Nerve They Have To Risk Losing Nothing.

Perhaps I Am Just A Coward Who Loves To Laugh At Life Better Than I Do Cry With It. But When I Do Get To Crying, Boy, I Can Roll A Mean Tear.

He Was The Average Mortal. It Troubled Him To Get Used To The World One Way And Then Suddenly Have It Turn Different.