It's night once more within my feeble heart
And, feeble minded, I think back again
To what there was, at least on my own part
Not what I said, love mine, but that fold ten.
I'd wish I could lend you my eyes
So you could behold what I do,
And so you will not get an answer,
But see that the answer is you.
It is today I think of you the most.
You, whom I've known for centuries, and here's
These lines I'm writing now, oh, not to boast
That I have known you, but that I have fears
Child. Old child,
No longer wild;
No longer speaking,
No longer beguiled;
it seems I haven't slept at all in ages
but I did sleep, and dreamt my life go past
and couldn't stop it... I just stood, aghast,
and hoped to see the sun as it arises
The Coming Of The Weekend
The night again descends upon the soul
As we go home, and drink, not to forget,
But for to be ourselves, remind our goal
And say 'I didn't make a devil's bet! '