The moon is swimming naked and the summer night is fragrant with a mighty expectation of relief.

White collared conservatives, flashing down the street, pointing their plastic fingers at me. They’re hoping soon my kind will drop and die, but I’m gonna wave my freak flag high.

Now Jesus, he don’t like killing, no matter what the reason is for, and your flag decal won’t get you into heaven anymore.

I don’t miss God, but I sure miss Santa Claus.

Some of Gods greatest gifts are unanswered prayers.

Nothing changes on New Year’s Day.

My logic’s been drowned in a sea of emotion.

If to know you is to hate you, then loving you must be like suicide.

If I’m leaving with a broken heart, you’re leavin’ with a broken nose.