You Remember Some Bedrooms You Have Slept

I Take You And Pile High The Memories. Death Will Break Her Claws On Some I Keep.

Come Clean With A Child Heart Laugh As Peaches In The Summer Wind Let Rain On A House Roof Be A Song Let The Writing On Your Face Be A Smell Of Apple Orchards On Late June.

History Is A Living Horse Laughing At A Wooden Horse. History Is A Wind Blowing Where It Listeth. History Is No Sure Thing To Bet On. History Is A Box Of Tricks With A Lost Key. History Is A Labyrinth Of Doors With Sliding Panels, A Book Of Ciphers With The Code In A Cave Of The Saragossa Sea. History Says, If It Pleases, Excuse Me, I Beg Your Pardon, It Will Never Happen Again If I Can Help It.

The Shovel Is The Brother To The Gun.

Be Careful With Your Words, Once They Are Said, They Can Only Be Forgiven, Not Forgotten.