The Revery Alone Will Do If Bees

Dreams Are The Subtle Dower That Make Us Rich An Hour Then Fling Us Poor Out Of The Purple Door.

So Instead Of Getting To Heaven, At Last - I’m Going, All Along.

Heavenly Father - Take To Thee The Supreme Iniquity Fashioned By Thy Candid Hand In A Moment Contraband - Though To Trust Us Seem To Us More Respectful - We Are Dust - We Apologize To Thee For Thine Own Duplicity.

I Must Go In, The Fog Is Rising.

In This Short Life That Only Lasts Ah Hour How Much-how Little-is Within Our Power.