There is a certain amount of what involved in the blinking of my almost. Every time I think you’re going to leave, I try to hold the elbow of car alittle tighter. When I finally get some sleep, and the fog clears, I will set new goals. I can find the hope of angels in the afterglow of tomorrow morning’s before. And you know that feeling that you get on the telephone, this is the way it has to be, baby. The dance club of my mind is closed, and all the opportunities gone home with other people’s thoughts. So now I boil my pages dark, you see, there is a justice in the way life smacks me in the face. The 90210 tyrany drives me a way to a nap where i dream that I’m el Gato Supremo. Night-night.