yet what I am none cares or knows;
My friends forsake me like a memory lost:
I am the self-consumer of my woes—
They rise and vanish in oblivious host,
Like shadows in love’s frenzied stifled throes
And yet I am, and live—like vapours tossed
Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life or joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my life’s esteems;
Even the dearest that I loved the best
Are strange—nay, rather, stranger than the rest.
I long for scenes where man hath never trod
A place where woman never smiled or wept
There to abide with my Creator, God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept,
Untroubling and untroubled where I lie
The grass below—above the vaulted sky.
Bit of culture for a Sunday…  |
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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago
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I am the club rocker
Can be my daddy
I feel ecstatic
Don't worry we can
Make love automatic
Come feel my body
I think you're naughty
With you and I now
The party get started
I think I like you
I think I like you
I think I like you
She's moving like: Oh, oh oh, oh oh, oh
She's moving like: Oh, oh oh, oh oh, oh
She's moving like: Oh, oh oh, oh oh, oh,
Oh oh, oh oh, oh, oh oh, oh oh, oh
She's moving like |
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