Here's a song was never sung: Growing old is dying young.
Evil alone has oil for every wheel.
Cruel of heart, lay down my song. Your reading eyes have done me wrong. Not for you was the pen bitten, And the mind wrung, and the song written.
I know I am but summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year.
Soar, eat ether, see what has never been seen; depart, be lost, but climb.
Not Truth, but Faith it is that keeps the world alive.