Creators Care Nothing For Their Systems Except

Fare Thee Well My Nightingale, I Lived But To Be Near You. Thow You Are Singing Somewhere Still I Can No Longer Hear You.

I Think That Really What Our Training, What Our Culture, Our Religious Institutions, Our Educational And Cultural Institutions Should Be About Is Preparing The Heart For That Journey Outside Of The Cage Of The Ribs.

I Loved You In The Morning, Our Kisses Deep And Warm, Your Hair Upon The Pillow Like A Sleepy, Golden Storm, Yes Many Loved Before Us, I Know We Are Not New, In City And In Forest They Smiled Like Me And You, But Now It's Come To Distances And Both Of Us Must Try, Your Eyes Are Soft With Sorrow, Hey, That's No Way To Say Goodbye.

And I'll Dance With You In Vienna, I'll Be Wearing A River's Disguise. The Hyacinth Wild On My Shoulder My Mouth On The Dew Of Your Thighs. And I'll Bury My Soul In A Scrapbook, With The Photographs There And The Moss. And I'll Yield To The Flood Of Your Beauty, My Cheap Violin And My Cross.

Your Heart Opens And Of Course You're Completely Panicked Because You're Used To Guarding This Organ With Your Life.