I am restless. I am athirst for faraway things. My soul goes out in a longing to touch the skirt of the dim distance. O Great Beyond, O the keen call of thy flute! I forget, I ever forget, that I have no wings to fly, that I am bound in this spot evermore.

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.

Poetry and lyrics are very similar. Making words bounce off a page.

When your heart turns cold, it causes your soul to freeze.

They would not find me changed from him they knew - only more sure of all I thought was true.

If it meant my love was really true, I'd gladly die and watch over you.