Not God With Wine, Nor Death, Nor

Music Sets Up Ladders, It Makes Us Invisible, It Sets Us Apart, It Lets Us Escape; But From The Visible There Is No Escape.

Love That I Bear Within My Breast How Is My Armour Melted How My Heart

O Happy, Happy Each Man Whom Predestined Fate Leads To The Holy Rite Of Hill And Mountain Worship.

Light Threatens, Is Active, Is Gone, So It Is With A Song.

Long Hours Trail In Their Purple And Long Years Are Lost In Just This Moment While Our Souls Are Near, Our Mouths Separate.