Living with your folks... living with your folks... the beginning of the end... drab, dead yesterdays shutting out beautiful tomorrows... hideous, stumbling footsteps creaking along the misty corridors of time... and in those corridors I see figures... straaange figures... weeeird figures: Steel 186, Anaconda 74, American Can 138.
Did someone call me schnorrer?
He went into the jungle where all the monkeys throw nuts.
If I stay here, I'll go nuts.
He is the only white man who covered every acre...
I think I'll try and make her...