The legends lie cradled in the seagulls call, and the promise they made are ground beneath the sadist's fall.
A sweetly scented angel fell, she laid her head upon my disbelief, and battled with me with her ever smile.
I'll pour a cup to you my darling, raise it up, say Cheerio.
I don't know about carry out, but you can carry me off to bed.
We'll have Superman for President, let Robin save the day.
Give us Direction; the best of goodwill; Put us in touch with fair winds. Sing to us softly, hum the evening's song. Tell us what the blacksmith has done for you.