Perhaps People Don't Come Into Their True

At The Top Of The Cycle You Write Policies For Everybody, No Matter How Bad, And At The Bottom You Cancel Everybody, No Matter How Good. It's A Manic-depressive Cycle.

Inspiration, Move Me Brightly, Light The Song With Sense And Color, Hold Away Despair

Every Song Falls Short Of The Glory Of What A Song Could Be. That's Why The Urge Is There To Start Again And Yet Again. Often It's The Fault Of Rhyme. I've Discovered A Hundred Times That There Just Aren't Enough Rhymes To Say What I Wanted To Say, So I Said Something Else Instead. Sometimes It Was A Better Thing, But The Thing I Meant To Say Went Unsaid. So There's An Opening For Another Song.

Comes A Time When The Blind Man Takes Your Hand Says Don't You See?

River Gonna Take Me, Sing Me Sweet And Sleepy, Sing Me Sweet And Sleepy All The Way Back Home, It's A Far Gone Lullaby Sung Many Years Ago Mama, Mama, Many Worlds I've Come Since I First Left Home