I don’t know how I got so damned tired. When I was younger I despised anyone who gave up so easily, but that was when the world sang to me, that was when there was a number for everything. (…) In a musicless moor at the end of a numberless world all I can manage now is to grieve for what I once felt and for how much I felt it. How is it I’m so old now and I don’t hear the music anymore, I don’t find the numbers anymore?

Rubicon Beach, STEVE ERICKSON

If I were a carpenter

And you were my lady

Would you marry me anyway?

Would you have my baby?

If I Were a Carpenter, TIM HARDIN

Noches y noches sin dormir

Tiempo de sobra para escribir

Pero yo quiero revistas a manta

Pero yo quiero posar junto a Alaska

Porque soñé que escribía en el Último Grito.

Último Grito, KAMENBERT