Inside, it is iron or empty?
I can give you nothing for I have nothing
Stones hitting the moon
The Event
As sad as Jesus
Pretend a while. let us talk of pretty things
Late on a late afternoon
We will not stop trying
Between the heard, the half-heard and the silence
Whatever this is, it is not family
Planet Jumper
A Camel in the garden
We drove back and forth to the hospital
The future is hours no matter how heavy
It brought us nearer, or so I thought
We are having a good time
They have dragged the kitchen sink, dug up the flower-pots, combed carpets.
I remember you like an old soft chair
It starts in a back room of an old grey pub
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