And Sex. And they say. Oh, ok. Oooeee. Now that’s Love. They say oh. That’ll teach you a thing or two about death. But as for me, I’m waiting for. An Aerosol. Full of Death. To land on my head. So I can say: I was there. When it most needed to happen. And when it didn’t. I made it up. Over and over. Until it was real, here comes the mail. And here comes the postman. And he says: What are you doing today? And I say: Reading by candlelight. He says: Good night. We’re out of here air.