Longing Alone Is Singer To The Lute.

... But The Rain Is Full Of Ghosts Tonight

My Heart Is Warm With The Friends I Make, And Better Friends I'll Not Be Knowing, Yet There Isn't A Train I Wouldn't Take, No Matter Where It's Going.

Need We Say It Was Not Love, Now That Love Is Perished?

Martyred Many Times Must Be Who Would Keep His Country Free.

I Only Know That Summer Sang In Me A Little While, That In Me Sings No More.