: Times are far between, and few I bet, when we can look upon our lives without regret. Of all the things I have done, you think I'm proud of everyone
time, but the clock is another demon that devours our time in Eden, in our Paradise. Will our eyes see well beneath us, flowers all divine? Is there still time
: That summer fields grew high with foxglove stalks and ivy. Wild apple blossoms everywhere. Emerald green like none I have seen apart from dreams
by strong desire to bind myself to you. How I wish that we never had tried to be man and his wife, to weave our lives into a blindfold over both our
in a string of days the year is gone. But in that space of time, it takes so long. Because we can't make up for the time that we've lost, I must let
: If lust and hate is the candy, if blood and love tastes so sweet, then we give 'em what they want. Hey, hey, give 'em what they want. So their
got more lives. In your reckless eyes, you only have time and your love of danger--to it your no stranger. In that August breeze of those forgotten trees, your time
: I dreamed of a circle, I dreamed of a circle round. And in that circle I had made were all the worlds unformed and unborn yet. A volume, a sphere
he made. Late shift, the bell that rang, a time card won't fade. 10:05 his truck pulled home. 10:05 he climbed his stair, about the time he was accused
: If you intend to live again, then open your eyes and don't pretend you're feeling there's nothing worth believing. God, if you persist you'll die
the night is made. Hear it grow, hear it fade. The sound you're hearing, the sound you're fearing is the hate that parades up and down our streets,
maidenly. Such power in her hand as she hails the wagon man's family. I see Indians that crawl through this mural that recalls our history. Who were
: These are the days you'll remember. Never before and never since, I promise, will the whole world be warm as this. And as you feel it, you'll know
If lust and hate is the candy, if blood and love tastes so sweet, then we give 'em what they want. Hey, hey, give 'em what they want. So their eyes
I dreamed of a circle, I dreamed of a circle round. And in that circle I had made were all the worlds unformed and unborn yet. A volume, a sphere that
Times are far between, and few I bet, when we can look upon our lives without regret. Of all the things I have done, you think I'm proud of everyone
yet maidenly. Such power in her hand as she hails the wagon man's family. I see Indians that crawl through this mural that recalls our history. Who
