You Seek Identity In The

Mind Is The Maker, For No Reason At All, For All This Creation, Created To Fall.

The Smog Was Heavy, My Eyes Were Weeping From It, The Sun Was Hot, The Air Stank, A Regular Hell Is L.a.

No Fear Or Shame In The Dignity Of Your Experience, Language, And Knowledge.

The Cause Of The World's Woe Is Birth, The Cure Of The World's Woe Is A Bent Stick.

And What Does The Rain Say At Night In A Small Town, What Does The Rain Have To Say? Who Walks Beneath Dripping Melancholy Branches Listening To The Rain? Who Is There In The Rain’s Million-needled Blurring Splash, Listening To The Grave Music Of The Rain At Night, September Rain, September Rain, So Dark And Soft? Who Is There Listening To Steady Level Roaring Rain All Around, Brooding And Listening And Waiting, In The Rain-washed, Rain-twinkled Dark Of Night?