Death Is The Stone Into Which Our

The Hardest Way Of Learning Is That Of Easy Reading.

Do Tears Not Yet Spilled Wait In Small Lakes?

Perhaps This War Will Pass Like The Others Which Divided Us Leaving Us Dead, Killing Us Along With The Killers But The Shame Of This Time Puts Its Burning Fingers To Our Faces. Who Will Erase The Ruthlessness Hidden In Innocent Blood?

Is 4 The Same 4 For Everybody? Are All Sevens Equal? When The Convict Ponders The Light Is It The Same Light That Shines On You?

We Must Dream Our Way.