Beauty walks a razor's edge, someday I'll make it mine. - Bob Dylan

Well the deputy walks on hard nails and the preacher rides a mount,
But nothing really matters much it's doom alone that counts.

By combining certain elements of technique which ignite each other I could shit the levels of perception, time-frame structures and systems of rythm which would give my songs a brighter countenance, call them up from the grave [...] It was like parts of my psyche were being communicated to by angels. There was a big fire in the fireplace and the wind was making it roar.

People starving and thirsting; grain elevators are bursting. You know, it costs more to store the food than it do to give it.