But Never Give Your Love, My Friend,

Let There Be Songs To Fill The Air.

But I Would Rather Be With You, Somewhere In San Francisco On A Back Porch In July, Just Looking Up To Heaven, At This Crescent In The Sky

Let My Inspiration Flow, In Token Lines Suggesting Rhythm, That Will Not Forsake Me, Till My Tale Is Told And Done.

Sit Back Picture Yourself Swooping Up A Shell Of Purple With Foam Crests Of Crystal Drops Soft Nigh They Fall Unto The Sea Of Morning Creep-very-softly Mist...and Then Sort Of Cascade Tinkley-bell Like (must I Take You By The Hand, Every So Slowly Type) And Then Conglomerate Suddenly Into A Peal Of Silver Vibrant Uncomprehendingly, Blood Singingly, Joyously Resoundingbells....by My Faith If This Be Insanity, Then For The Love Of God Permit Me To Remain Insane.

One Man Gathers What Another Man Spills