I've been thinking of combustication as a welcome vacation from the burdens of planet Earth - like gravity, hypocrisy, the perils of being in 3-D, and thinking so much differently.

This island isn't big enough for both of us...so who will swim in eel-infested oceans?

Society must let the artist go, to wander off into their nebula.

Forgive my indecision. I am only a man.

Men have a lot less to write about, unless you're somebody like Tom Waits or John Lennon. And the female voice is much more suited to melody. Men have this barky thing-we're domesticated apes with a microphone.

If this is right, I'd rather be wrong. If this is sight, I'd rather be blind.