The desert won't leave me alone. It is my obsession. I want to eat sand, but I can't because I'm on a diet.

Tommorow is not Tuesday. I'm paranoid and writing fallacies on the wall.

I told her to get out of my head, but then she ran straight for my heart. I told her I wanted to try this love thing, and she headed straight for the door. That's when I became fascinated with sand and it's power to render the mind useless with it's charm.

Sirens=Sand

It's all sand. Not snow. Sand.

It all ends with sand.

I must fast now.

Close the door.

Or watch, I don't care. All I care about is sand now.

Amputate the model, and make it's arms out of heated sand. Glass.

Mr. Glass has no class. The children jeer, . . . it's because they have not been taught about sand and its regenerative power.