Life Dosent Frighten Me At All.

So Since I'm Still Here Livin', I Guess I Will Live On. I Could've Died For Love-- But For Livin' I Was Born.

Gather Out Of Star-dust, Earth-dust, Cloud-dust, Storm-dust, And Splinters Of Hail, One Handful Of Dream-dust, Not For Sale.

What Happens To A Dream Deferred? Does It Dry Up Like A Raisin In The Sun? Or Fester Like A Sore-- And Then Run? Does It Stink Like Rotten Meat? Or Crust And Sugar Over-- Like A Syrupy Sweet? Maybe It Just Sags Like A Heavy Load. Or Does It Explode?

I Stuck My Head Out The Window This Morning And Spring Kissed Me Bang In The Face.

Blues Had The Pulse Beat Of The People Who Keep On Going.