I would rather be stricken blind than to live without expression of mind.

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

They loved the sight of your dimming, and flickering starlight. How could they understand what was so intricate to be loved by so many, so intimate.

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

What of fame? Everybody knows your name: never again are you alone.

Now the baby's in the trash heap balling.