On My Way May winds blow on my back And push my sails onward To shore where lies that shack With roses on its yard The home of Lady Love My angel from above
While plodding down the road, I pray: That I would pass a wishing well, Or that black cats would shun my way, Or that I see those lights that fell, So I could ask a shooting star Of guiding me to where you are;
It augurs ill, and seems of prospects bleak, If on my way, a hearse passes me by, Or should to pieces, I, a mirror break, But luck, to find a four-leaf clover lie,
And of ladders I know, Never to walk on space below.
♪ ♫ Well, I guess, it could be said that if my knowledge and wisdom were converted to wealth, I may humbly say, in all honesty, that I am not a millionaire. But if out of my two cents, you would agree to accept one of it, then, I could proudly say, in all modesty, that I have done charity.♥
Unthinkable. Lithograph of a malaise. I cannot talk. Will you abandon the thought and care about the drowning dawn? The bandaged ego of the book threatens the reader. Come and solve the puzzle of poetry. Everything was quiet except the
The man pushes the other man in a wheelchair Down a dreary Salford road, avoiding kerbs, talking Always talking, talking of nothing, talking of everything, What it takes and never gives back. The load. With wheels of fire and halos
Within the imagination I am content to live This is my stay I see how plenty, how ever-expanding it is The ‘All’ a rich array Of ever-rotating colors with which to paint And never fade away This is my stay