"I’m kneeling on the floor, staring at the wall, like the spider in the window i wish that i could speak. ..is there fantasy in refuge? God in politicians? Should i turn on my religion? These demons in my head tell me to. ..I’m lying here in bed, swear my skin is inside out, just another fucked up morning. ..seen my diary on the newsstand, seems we’ve lost the truth to quicksand, it’s a shame no one is praying, cause these voices in my head keep saying…’Love, just don’t stare, reveal the Word when you’re supposed to. ..Withdrawn and introverted, infectiously perverted, being laughed at and confused, keeps us pleasantly amused enough to stay’…"