They Are Not Long, The Days Of

They Are Not Long, The Days Of Wine And Roses. Out Of A Misty Dream, Our Path Emerges For A While, Then Closes, Within A Dream.

I Understand That Absinthe Makes The Tart Grow Fonder.

They Are Not Long, The Weeping And The Laughter. Love And Desire And Hate; I Think They Have No Portion In Us After We Pass The Gate.

They Are Not Long, The Days Of Wine And Roses.

I Cried For Madder Music And For Stronger Wine.