Everything You Gather Is Just One That

If My Words Did Glow With The Gold Of Sunshine And My Tunes Were Played On The Harp Unstrung Would You Hear My Voice Come Through The Music Would You Hold It Near As It Were Your Own?

Perhaps People Don't Come Into Their True Maturity Until A Parent Dies.

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

Everything You Gather Is Just One That You Can Lose.

When It Seems Like The Night Will Last Forever, And There's Nothing Left To Do But Count The Years, When The Strings Of My Harp To Sever, And Stones Fall From My Eyes Instead Of Tears... I Will Walk Alone By The Black Muddy River, And Dream Me A Dream Of My Own, I Will Walk Alone By The Black Muddy River, And Sing Me A Song Of My Own.