They say when trouble comes close ranks, and so the white people did.
Only the magic and the dream are true — all the rest's a lie.
Yes, I am sad, sad as a circus-lioness, sad as an eagle without wings, sad as a violin with only one string and that one broken, sad as a woman who is growing old. Sad, sad, sad.
A room is, after all, a place where you hide from the wolves. That's all any room is.
Everything tender and melancholy - as life is sometimes, just for one moment.
There is always the other side, always.