You must be swift as the coursing river, With all the force of a great typhoon, With all the strength of a raging fire, Mysterious as the dark side of the moon.
I am nothing but a mouthful of 'sorry's, half-hearted apologies that roll of my tongue, smoothquick, like 'r's or maybe like pocket candy that's just a bit too sweet.
I am nothing but a mouthful of 'sorry's, half-hearted apologies that roll of my tongue, smoothquick, like 'r's or maybe like pocket candy that's just a bit too sweet.
I am nothing but a mouthful of 'sorry's, half-hearted apologies that roll of my tongue, smoothquick, like 'r's or maybe like pocket candy that's just a bit too sweet.
I am nothing but a mouthful of 'sorry's, half-hearted apologies that roll of my tongue, smoothquick, like 'r's or maybe like pocket candy that's just a bit too sweet.
“Rise like Lions after slumber
In unvanquishable number.
Shake your chains to earth like dew
Which in sleep had fallen on you—
Ye are many—they are few.” — Mary Shelly