The Sky, At Sunset, Looked Like A

There Is A Time For Reciting Poems And A Time For Fists.

The World Is Alive And No Living Thing Has Any Remedy. That Is Our Fortune.

Dreams Fade With Morning Light, Never A Morn For Thee, Dreamer Of Dreams, Goodnight.

The Secret Story Is The One We'll Never Know, Although We're Living It From Day To Day, Thinking We're Alive, Thinking We've Got It All Under Control And The Stuff We Overlook Doesn't Matter.

In Some Lost Fold Of The Past, We Wanted To Be Lions And We're No More Than Castrated Cats