They tell me there is a storm way out in the East, NYC! you devil and EVERYBODY knows it. Lord! Nobody talks about the storm I've been feeding since youth except the psychiatrist who asked the questions I forgot I had answers to has it been that long? I know I'm getting older, but where are the memories placed what is the residual of it all? she asked and asked and I forgot what I tried to remember I still remembered what I once tried to forget, you see and not all I can see, baby is the argument from this morning my loyal apartment #7, I call home maybe the clothes in the closet the music I'm currently listening to Mr. Nick Waterhouse if you ever have a chance My job, my suits, my whiskey, the typer my curious young boy, most of all, is the certain reflection of where we must be join' and that is the truth and the ******* plants, you gotta water the ******* plants, man