This Is Burma, And It Will Be

It'is Like A Book, I Think, This Bloomin' World.

There Rise Her Timeless Capitals Of Empires Daily Born, Whose Plinths Are Laid At Midnight And Whose Streets Are Packed At Morn; And Here Come Tired Youths And Maids That Feign To Love Or Sin In Tones Like Rusty Razor Blades To Tunes Like Smitten Tin.

What Stands If Freedom Fall?

A People Always Ends By Resembling Its Shadow.

Believe The Best Of Everybody.