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Nulum solum infelici gratius solitudine, ubi nullus sit qui miseriam exprobret

[to the wretched no spot is more welcome than one where there is no one to upbraid his misery]

prodigia in obitu principum sæpius contingunt

[prodigies frequently occur at the deaths of illustrious men]

sine sanguine et dolore; similes fere diis sunt [without blood or feeling; they are almost like the gods]

omne sub regno graviore regnum [every throne is subject to a greater throne]

Prosperum et felix scelus virtus vocatur [vice, when successful, is called virtue]

“All my joys to this are folly,
None so divine as melancholy.”

strange looking people with sharp teeth I always hold up a mirror / to and make sure they not no vampire

never did like them Beach Boys all them hot rods and whacking off on a surfboard

wouldn’t it be cool to have a concave mirror for the lid on your coffin

I have wild dreams I live a wild life
I’ve seen things better not to tell
I am the son of the river
just another bastard childhood is not worth living no matter what you hear

I had a slogan once: Care without community.

I write obscure words nouns and vicious and silent verbs on her back with lotion

I believe if a hick was to walk in front of a huge mirror in a museum / all he’d see was hisself

I felt the two words Power and Dominion had been betrayed by the lawyers

I got some firecrackers I says / so what I got a half case of dynamite sitting in the back of that trunk

I am watching you in the foothills of oblivion /and I want the real thing

so you think you are plum loco you got to admit here and in Memphis / and just about everywhere you go you run into some strange folks

outlaw of black
dream brother Lord
Byron brother of mad friends of youth I take you out in the third round with a
cross to the jaw

I am no longer in Tennessee I am in Egypt now oh the city is a leash

the only thing worthwhile I ever saw while going down a highway / was a school bus full of ghosts with photographs flying out from the cracks

they got holy water in a Nehi bottle burns the devil’s eyes out

black dirt under the assassin’s boots
hauled into the cemeteries for good looks

don’t you know no better than to be nailing coffins when it’s dark

I know Jesus would have kicked your teeth in you couldn’t pull that shit on him