I Only Hope That When I Am

Unless I'm Wrong I But Obey The Urge Of A Song: I'm-bound-away! And I May Return If Dissatisfied With What I Learn From Having Died.

The Tree The Tempest With A Crash Of Wood Throws Down In Front Of Us Is Not To Bar Our Passage To Our Journey's End For Good, But Just To Ask Us Who We Think We Are.

Thinking Is Not To Agree Or Disagree. That's Voting.

I Have Stood Still And Stopped The Sound Of Feet When Far Away An Interrupted Cry Came Over Houses From Another Street, But Not To Call Me Back Or Say Good-bye.

Life Is Tons Of Discipline.