Let there be songs to fill the air.
You who choose to lead must follow. But if you fall, you fall alone.
At the top of the cycle you write policies for everybody, no matter how bad, and at the bottom you cancel everybody, no matter how good. It's a manic-depressive cycle.
Perhaps people don't come into their true maturity until a parent dies.
Poised for flight, Wings spread bright, Spring from night into the Sun.
Sometimes we live no particular way but our own