'I cry'
Sometimes when I'm alone I Cry, Cause I am on my own. The tears I cry are bitter and warm. They flow with life but take no form I Cry because my heart is torn. I find it difficult to carry on. If I had an ear to confiding, I would cry among my treasured friend, but who do you know that stops that long, to help another carry on. The world moves fast and it would rather pass by. Then to stop and see what makes one cry, so painful and sad. And sometimes... I Cry and no one cares about why.
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Cold hearted orb that rules the night, Removes the colours from our sight Red is grey, and yellow white But we decide which is right. And which is an illusion.
Pinprick holes in a colourless sky, Let incipient figures of light pass by, The mighty light of ten thousand suns, Challanges infinity and is soon gone.
Night time, to some, a brief interlude, To others, the fear of solititude. Brave Helios, wake up your steeds, Bring us the warmth the countryside needs.
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Would that I were a dry well, and that the people tossed stones into me, for that would be easier than to be a spring of flowing water that the thirsty pass by, and from which they avoid drinking.
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Moons and years pass by and are gone forever, but a beautiful moment shimmers through life a ray of light.
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Remember youth as you pass by,
As you was once, so once was I,
As I am now, you soon will be,
Prepare to die and follow me
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Men go abroad to wonder at the heights of mountains, at the huge waves of the sea, at the long courses of rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motions of the stars; and they pass by themselves without wondering.
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I never can pass by the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York without thinking of it not as a gallery of living portraits but as a cemetery of tax-deductible wealth.
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People travel to wonder at the height of mountains, at the huge waves of the sea, at the long courses of rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motion of the stars.…and they pass by themselves without wondering.
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People travel to wonder at the height of the mountains, at the huge waves of the seas, at the long course of the rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motion of the stars, and yet they pass by themselves without wondering.
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Cast a cold eye On life, on death. Horseman, pass by!
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"I cry"
Sometimes when I'm alone I Cry, Cause I am on my own. The tears I cry are bitter and warm. They flow with life but take no form I Cry because my heart is torn. I find it difficult to carry on. If I had an ear to confiding, I would cry among my treasured friend, but who do you know that stops that long, to help another carry on. The world moves fast and it would rather pass by. Then to stop and see what makes one cry, so painful and sad. And sometimes... I Cry and no one cares about why.
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Euphemisms are not, as many young people think, useless verbiage for that which can and should be said bluntly; they are like secret agents on a delicate mission, they must airily pass by a stinking mess with barely so much as a nod of the head, make their point of constructive criticism and continue on in calm forbearance. Euphemisms are unpleasant truths wearing diplomatic cologne.
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Men go abroad to wonder the heights of mountains, at the huge waves of the sea, at the long courses of the rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motions of the stars; and they pass by themselves without wondering.
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By his command these words are cut: Cast a cold eye On life, on death. Horseman, pass by!
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As I walk thru darkness I see Death pass by, to afraid to get near me. Waiting for my time while drugs consume me. My soul on fire waiting to explode and my heart growing so ever cold. Confused and alone I wait no longer. Insanity has taken over. A madman to watch over.
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Discourse on virtue and they pass by in droves, whistle and dance the shimmy, and you've got an audience.
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Modesty and unselfishness--these are the virtues which men praise--and pass by.
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He who allows his day to pass by without practicing generosity and enjoying life's pleasures is like a blacksmith's bellows. He breathes, but does not live.
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Is it nothing to you, all ye that pass by? behold, and see if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow.
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Remember friends as you pass by, As you are now so once was I. As low as I you once must be, Prepare yourself and follow me.
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Remember friend as you pass by As you are now so once was I As I am now you soon shall be So prepare for death and follow me
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