I Am An Ark In The Swift

To Become Spiritual, You Must Die To Self, And Come Alive In The Lord. Only Then Will The Mysteries Of God Fall From Your Lips. To Die To Self Through Self-discipline Causes Suffering But Brings You Everlasting Life.

Without You The Instruments Would Die. One Sits Close Beside You. Another Takes A Long Kiss. The Tambourine Begs, Touch My Skin So I Can Be Myself. Let Me Feel You Enter Each Limb Bone By Bone, That What Died Last Night Can Be Whole Today. Why Live Some Soberer Way, And Feel You Ebbing Out? I Won't Do It. Either Give Me Enough Wine Or Leave Me Alone, Now That I Know How It Is To Be With You In Constant Conversation.

Indeed Envy Is A Defect; Worse Than Any Other.

I've Brought You A Mirror. Look At Yourself And Remember Me.

I Don't Want Learning, Or Dignity, Or Respectability. I Want This Music, And This Dawn, And The Warmth Of Your Cheek Against Mine.