 
The man in 119 takes his tea alone. Mornings we all rise to 
wireless Verdi cries. I'm hearing opera through the door. The souls 
of men and women, impassioned all. Their voices climb and fall; 
battle trumpets call. I fill the bath and climb inside, singing. 
He will not touch their pastry but every day they bring him 
more. Gold from the breakfast tray, I steal them all away and then go 
and eat them on the shore. 
I draw a jackel-headed woman in the sand, sing of a lover's 
fate sealed by jealous hate then wash my hand in the sea. With just 
three days more I'd have just about learned the entire scire to Aida. 
Holidays must end as you know. All is memory taken home with 
me: the opera, the stolen tea, the sand drawing, the verging sea, all 
years ago. 
| 1 | Candy Everybody Wants | 
| 2 | Like The Weather | 
| 3 | Candy Everybody Wants | 
| 4 | Like The Weather | 
| 5 | Hey Jack Kerouac | 
| 6 | Because the night | 
| 7 | Don't Talk | 
| 8 | How You've Grown | 
| 9 | Trouble Me | 
| 10 | Gold Rush Brides |