I Understand That Absinthe Makes The Tart

I Cried For Madder Music And For Stronger Wine.

They Are Not Long, The Days Of Wine And Roses.

They Are Not Long, The Weeping And The Laughter. Love And Desire And Hate; I Think They Have No Portion In Us After We Pass The Gate.

I Cried For Madder Music And For Stronger Wine, But When The Feast Is Finished And The Lamps Expire, Then Falls Thy Shadow, Cynara! The Night Is Thine.

They Are Not Long, The Days Of Wine And Roses. Out Of A Misty Dream, Our Path Emerges For A While, Then Closes, Within A Dream.