It's Little I Know What's In My

Youth, Have No Pity; Leave No Farthing Here For Age To Invest In Compromise And Fear.

Dust In An Urn Long Since, Dispersed And Dead Is Great Apollo; And The Happier He

Sweet Love, Sweet Thorn, When Lightly To My Heart. I Took Your Thrust, Whereby I Since Am Slain, And I Lie Disheveled In The Grass Apart, A Sodden Thing Bedrenched By Tears And Rain.

If Ever I Said In Grief Or Pride, I'd Tired Of Honest Things, I Lied.

There Isn't A Train I Wouldn't Take, No Matter Where It's Going.