«Am I alive or thoughts that drift away?
Does summer come for everyone?
Can humans do what prophets say?
If I die before I learn to speak,
Can money pay for all the days I lived awake, but half asleep?»
Standing Outside a Broken Phone Booth, Primitive Radio Gods
«You ride the waves and don’t ask where they go
You swim like lions through the crest
And bathe yourself in zebra flesh»