Come Not Between The Dragon And His

They Say, The Tongues Of Dying Men Enforce Attention, Like Deep Harmony; Where Words Are Scarce, They're Seldom Spent In Vain; For They Breathe Truth, That Breathe Their Words In Pain.

The Bird That Hath Been Limed In A Bush, With Trembling Wings Misdoubteth Every Bush.

Temptation: The Fiend At My Elbow.

I Like This Place And Could Willingly Waste My Time In It.

You Know That I Do Fawn On Men, And Hug Them Hard, And After Scandal Them.