Four Large Stamps
No, it's OK. I'll call you later
I will sell them all to the Portugese
Zulus, Sir; Thousands of 'em!
I know, and I know you know I know.
As the people became lighter and began to rise
There are probably stars
The End of the Last Sin-Eater
He may have killed himself, although thirty-seven wounds suggests...
As pretty as Norman Bates' mother
A nice, simple, soft, boiled, egg
The children will colour it in
I've come to see the manager
Pick a card, any card, he said
Sometimes the world just starts to get heavier
The sun has got his hat on; hip-hip-hip-hooray