Deep In The Secret Chambers Of My

If We Must Die, Let It Not Be Like Hogs Hunted And Penned In An Inglorious Spot, If We Must Die, O Let Us Nobly Die.

We Are Like Trees. We Wear All Colors Naturally.

It's When You Are Down That You Learn About Your Faults.

I Know The Dark Delight Of Being Strange, The Penalty Of Difference In The Crowd, The Loneliness Of Wisdom Among Fools.

Upon The Clothes Behind The Tenement, That Hang Like Ghosts Suspended From The Lines, Linking Each Flat, But To Each Indifferent, Incongruous And Strange The Moonlight Shines.