Life Is A Long Headache

Commonplace People Dislike Tragedy Because They Dare Not Suffer And Cannot Exult.

Life Is A Long Headache In A Noisy Street.

So Shall I Fight, So Shall I Tread, In This Long War Beneath The Stars; So Shall A Glory Wreathe My Head, So Shall I Faint And Show The Scars, Until This Case, This Clogging Mould, Be Smithied All To Kingly Gold.

When The Last Sea Is Sailed And Last Shallow Charted, When The Last Field Is Reaped And The Last Harvest Stored, When The Last Fire Is Out And The Last Guest Departed Grant The Last Prayer That I Pray, Be Good To Me, O Lord.

God Dropped A Spark Down Into Everyone, And If We Find And Fan It To A Blaze, It'll Spring Up And Glow, Like--like The Sun, And Light The Wandering Out Of Stony Ways.