On the top floor of the Empire State a shepherd has stood up to sing and dance.

I have just turned life into a proverb. I just killed it.

Boom! Boom! He's dead. He's dead. Mariquita has killed the Narrator. Revolution in the Intimate Diary of Solitude. He's dead. He's dead. But he's not really de…

I have been a fortune teller. Ages ago I told the forture on buffoons and madmen. You remember. I had a small voice like a grain of sand and enormous hands. Ma…