No Matter What We Are, And What

No Matter What We Are, And What We Sing, Time Finds A Withered Leaf In Every Laurel

I Mean You Last As Long As Lies.

Were It Not For Love, Poor Life Would Be A Ship Not Worth Launching.

Your Dollar Is Your Only Word, / The Wrath Of It Your Only Fear. / You Build It Altars Tall Enough / To Make You See, But Your Are Blind; / You Cannot Leave It Long Enough / To Look Before You Or Behind.

Poets And Kings Are But The Clerks Of Time, Tiering The Same Dull Webs Of Discontent, Clipping The Same Sad Alnage Of The Years.