Personally I have no bone to pick with graveyards, I take the air there willingly, perhaps more willingly than elsewhere, when take the air I must. Samuel Beckett, First Love
Well I’ve lost my equilibrium and my car keys and my pride, The tattoo parlor’s warm, and so I hustle there inside And the grinding off the buzz-saw, “What you want that thing to say?” I says, “Just don’t misspell her name, buddy, she’s the one that got awayBreathe in PeaceTattoos while you waitUniversal Sign Language