“The Wicked Ways of Our World” by Michael Tyler

And Sam turns as she raises a sheet to cover newly revealed flesh. “I find I never can quite trust a man who won’t cry during a movie. It makes me wonder what else he’s hiding.”

And this is yet one of many cracks that in future will reveal sweet recall of sins past and regrets yet earned.

And there are scraps of paper on Sam’s bedside nook and I pick one up:

And I mention it sounds like an early McCartney lyric and she seems to take that for less than a compliment.

And earlier I had inhaled and mentioned that, “Faith is not a virtue, it is born of Pride, which is one of the most venal of the mortal sins – up there with Envy, Wrath” but I halted come Lust.

And she had countered, “Arrogance is confidence unearned.”

And once again I realised there was a gulf between pseudo-intellect and intellect most genuine and I would never brave the leap. I wonder how much I present is pretence at best.

And she inhales and passes over and I inhale and Cooke continues on repeat and I try to refrain from filing away a tear for sessions future, as “A Change Is Gonna Come” consists of one man’s death rattle and another’s pay cheque.