We Will All Wake Up Semi-angels, If

I Cannot Speculate On What Our Cluttered Mind Will Save- Sleepy Sundays, Or A Nosebleed After Love. I Know Only The Dying Heart Needs The Nourishment Of Memory To Live Beyond Too Many Winters.

I've Come To Terms With It, It Knows I Know.

Be Gentle With Me, New Love. Treat Me Tenderly. I Need The Gentle Touch, The Soft Voice, The Candlelight After Nine. There's Been So Many Who Didn't Understand So Give Me All The Love I See In Your Timid Eyes But Give It Gently Please.

Never Fear Being Alone, Because You Never Are.

There's No Misery In Not Being Loved, Only In Not Loving.