“BALLROOMS OF MARS""You gonna look fine Be primed for dancing You're gonna trip and glide All on the trembling plane Your diamond hands Will be stacked with roses And wind and cars And people of the past I'll call you thing Just when the moon sings And place your face in stone Upon the hill of stars And gripped in the arms Of the changeless madman We'll dance our lives away In the Ballrooms of Mars You talk about day I'm talking 'bout night time When the monsters call out The names of men Bob Dylan knows And I bet Alan Freed did There are things in night That are better not to behold You dance With your lizard leather boots on And pull the strings That change the faces of men You diamond browed hag You're a gutter-gaunt gangster John Lennon knows your name And I've seen his”

“You ugly rat-faced birds. You call yourself a bird? You call yourself an owl? You ain't no decent kind of fowl! They call you Jatt? They call you Jutt? I'm gonna toss you in a rut! Then I'm gonna punch you in the gut! Then your gonna wind up on your butt! Think you're all gizzard! I seen better lizards. One-Two-Three-Four, You're goin' down, won't ask for more. Five-Six-Seven-Eight, You ain't better than fish bait...Nine-Ten-Eleven-Twelve, I'm gonna send you straight to hell. -Twilight”

“But don't forget who you really are. And I'm not talking about your so-called real name. All names are made up by someone else, even the one your parents gave you.   You know who you really are. When you're alone at night, looking up at the stars, or maybe lying in your bed in total darkness, you know that nameless person inside you.   Your life is about to be ripped apart. You will be turned into a digging machine. Your muscles will toughen. So will your heart and soul. That's necessary for survival. But don't lose touch with that person deep inside you, or else you won't really have survived at all.”

“You've got to get up every morning with a smile on your face, And show the world all the love in your heart, then people gonna treat you better. You're gonna find, yes, you will, That you're beautiful as you feel.”

“You are not your job, you're not how much money you have in the bank. You are not the car you drive. You're not the contents of your wallet. You are not your fucking khakis. You are all singing, all dancing crap of the world.”

“Dear Amelia,I hear there are giant jellyfish in the Arctic,tentacles longer than train carriages.Haystacks fly over cities in whirlwinds, and fish frogs and turtles rain on towns.There are spaces of perfect nothing that they call black holes.Nothing's impossible- that's what you think I'm trying to say.But I'm not.There are things that are impossible - unimaginable even- and here they are: That I broke you.Betrayed you.Said I'd given up on you. Sent you flying to a park in a thunderstorm.That I've been wrong about you all along- saw something in your face each time you faded to your past, when the opposite was true.That all this time you've been lost and that I won't get a second chance to find you.Amelia your name is a song. It's a name you can't say without smiling or crying, without casting both shadows and light. But there are too many places to hide or get lost in a name like Amelia.So this is me shouting that name. They say nobody ever escapes from a black hole. They don't know the strength in my Amelia. The strength in your grip when you want to stay out dancing- the strength in your wicked smile.Riley”