There Is Peace In The Swamp, Though

Thiar Ain't No Sense In Gittin' Riled!

Your Voices Break And Falter In The Darkness, Break, Falter, And Are Still.

Never A Lip Is Curved With Pain That Can't Be Kissed Into Smiles Again.

There Is Peace In The Swamp, Though The Quiet Is Death

The Delicate Thought, That Cannot Find Expression, For Ruder Speech Too Fair, That, Like Thy Petals, Trembles In Possession, And Scatters On The Air.