When I Lie Where Shades

Do Diddle Di Do, Poor Jim Jay Got Stuck Fast In Yesterday.

What Is The World, O Soldiers? It Is I, I, This Incessant Snow, This Northern Sky.

As Soon As They're Out Of Your Sight, You Are Out Of Their Mind.

He Got Out Of Bed And Peeped Through The Blinds. To The East And Opposite To Him Gardens And An Apple-orchard Lay, And There In Strange Liquid Tranquility Hung The Morning Star, And Rose, Rilling Into The Dusk Of Night The First Grey Of Dawn. The Street Beneath Its Autumn Leaves Was Vacant, Charmed, Deserted.

And Some Win Peace Who Spend The Skill Of Words To Sweeten Despair Of Finding Consolation Where Life Has But One Dark End.