All my life I’ve been holding on. It’s been crazy but still, I’m stronger. Stronger. All my life I’ve been reading on the Sunday Comics. But still, I’m stronger.Stronger.
Infinite possibility. It’s closer than you think. Everything you could ever want, all the sparkling desires of your heart. Just close your eyes. Imagine them here. Sun. Day. Comics.
First to fall over when the atmosphere is less than perfect. Your sensibilities are shaken by the slightest defect. You live you life like a canary in a coalmine. You get to Sunday, read the comics and then drink wine.
I can still find things to laugh about today, but tomorrow makes me cry. And I still want the Sunday Comics, even though it’s the end of the world.
All my friends tell me something is gettin’ together, I got a beard that would disappear if I’m dressed in leather. Now let me tell you about my baby, she was born readin’ Sunday Comics, sittin’ in the jailhouse trying to learn some good manners.
I dreamt all yesterday how I might make a man feel, the Sunday Comics up to his face! “Show respect to me, I don’t care what you’re thinking, I’ll wipe that thought away!”
We know of an ancient radiation that haunts dismembered constellations, a faintly glimmering radio station. While Frank Sinatra sings “Sunday Comics,” the flies and spiders get along together…cobwebs fall on an old skipping record.
You drove me up and down the street; you used me up like gasoline. I still remember the Sunday Comics, that’s the reason had to stay away from Claire.
Omar Willey pulls a photograph out of a box in his return to photography writing.
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