I'll Get Out Of This City Alive,

Beauty- It Was A Glorious Gift Of Nature.

There Is A Strength In The Even Of Very Sorry Men

For Fate Has Wove The Thread Of Life With Pain, And Twins Ev'n From The Birth Are Misery And Man!

Do Thou Restrain The Haughty Spirit In Thy Breast, For Better Far Is Gentle Courtesy.

Like A Girl, A Baby Running After Her Mother, Begging To Be Picked Up, And She Tugs On Her Skirts, Holding Her Back As She Tries To Hurry Off—all Tears, Fawning Up At Her, Till She Takes Her In Her Arms… That’s How You Look, Patroclus, Streaming Live Tears.