It's Not A Cry You Can Hear

Well I See You There With The Rose In Your Teeth One More Thin Gypsy Thief... Yes, And Thanks, For The Trouble You Took From Her Eyes I Thought It Was There For Good So I Never Tried... And Jane Came By With A Lock Of Your Hair She Said That You Gave It To Her That Night That You Planned To Go Clear.

Some Say That No One Ever Leaves Montreal, For That City, Like Canada Itself, Is Designed To Preserve The Past, A Past That Happened Somewhere Else.

All Men Will Be Sailors Then Until The Sea Shall Free Them

And I'll Dance With You In Vienna, I'll Be Wearing A River's Disguise. The Hyacinth Wild On My Shoulder My Mouth On The Dew Of Your Thighs. And I'll Bury My Soul In A Scrapbook, With The Photographs There And The Moss. And I'll Yield To The Flood Of Your Beauty, My Cheap Violin And My Cross.

Poetry Is Just The Evidence Of Life. If Your Life Is Burning Well, Poetry Is Just The Ash.