No time for revolving doors.

Brenda and Eddie had had it already by the summer of ’75.

And you don’t stop, you keep on eatin’ cars.

It’s confusing these days.

If there’s a bustle in your hedgerow, don’t be alarmed now.

She’s got wonderful eyes and a risqué mouth.

We talk about this whole stupid world and still come out laughing (Ha!)

The Rolling truck Stones thing.

* Or a bad book, if that’s where I find myself at times.