Confiscate letters like D.E.B.

No natural course of things for her to expect

Withdraw the feelings 'You can, you can't'

I called your number as you told the world



Something is wrong



There is no longer any normal to me

You're my assassin but you can't see the crime

Pointless possessions of me & you & greed

I looked at you mistaking needles for eyes



Something is wrong



G. Webb Feb/March '82