I'll Be Selling Tickets For

Crimson Flames Tied Through My Ears Rolling High And Mighty Traps, Pounced With Fire On Flaming Roads Using Ideas As My Maps.

Peace Is The Time It Takes To Reload Your Rifle.

He Swift Don't Win The Race. It Goes To The Worthy, Who Can Divide The Word Of Truth.

How Many Times Must A Man Look Up, Before He Can See The Sky?

What Drives Me To You, Drives Me Insane.