Directly, or indirectly, everything we write is for someone.
One of the angels in my dreams
Be my fairy to the world, be my very own constellation
Train roll on, on down the line,
Won’t you please take me far away? Tuesday’s gone with the wind.
My woman’s gone with the wind.
And I don’t know where I’m going.
I feel like you forgot that I ever existed
I am so clever that sometimes I don’t understand a single word of what I am saying.