We're Out Of Control On This Loony

If After Two Weeks You Still Can't Write Your Middle-eight, The Best Course Of Action Is To See A Psychiatrist

You Hate Me And I Hate You, So At Least We Understand Each Other.

You Got All Your Friends, I Got A Tv Set.

Hey, Is That You Elvis? I Wanna Speak To The Colonel. Jump To It, You Mother.

Life Had Become A Reproduction: It Was Not The Real Thing.