I Would Rather Be Tied To The

To-morrow We Embark Upon The Boundless Sea.

There Is The Heat Of Love, The Pulsing Rush Of Longing, The Lover’s Whisper, Irresistible—magic To Make The Sanest Man Go Mad.

There Is A Strength In The Even Of Very Sorry Men

There Will Be Killing Till The Score Is Paid.

Thou Wilt Lament Hereafter, When The Evil Shall Be Done And Shall Admit No Cure.