It's all that matters to me now, but someday I'll just have to let her go.

If you grow to be a singer, my baby, wearing bling and things, don’t worry about what I say. Live and shove and maybe some fine day, you’ll find a love half right. Laugh right's only half of what’s wrong. I’ll always love a short-haired girl who just might wear hers long. Glad. So glad. So glad?

Everything blends, and all you need is love. What we call entropy: ultimate balance. What we call gravity: primitive cumulation. And we tend to think they're separate. But nothing is. And money can't buy me love. There are only unities we can't sense cuz they make no sense to our slivered minds. We're only the sleeping. It tears us apart. And hurts.