You Win A While, And

How Bitter Were The Prozac Pills Of The Last Few Hundred Mornings

It's Four In The Morning, The End Of December I'm Writing You Now Just To See If You're Better.

When You've Fallen On The Highway / And You're Lying In The Rain, / And They Ask You How You're Doing / Of Course You'll Say You Can't Complain.

As Soon As Anybody Does One Of My Songs, I Rejoice. This Particular Case Of All These Great Singers Doing My Work - The Implications Are Very Rich And The Temptation To Think Of The Outcome Of These Masses Of The Mainstream Injecting My Work Into The Marketplace, It's A Very Sweet Speculation.

The Big Change Is The Proximity To Death.