It’s Raining Styx And Stones.
I Wanna Pick My Bones
Out Of, Out Of My Skin
And Walk Around With Him.
It’s Raining Bricks And Lightning.
Pray Away for A Life Less Frightening
And Bet On, Bet On My Sins
Then Walk Around With Him
‘Cuz In The Future We All Pretend.
Eyes Ahead, The Past Is Dim.
‘Cuz In The Future We All Pretend.
In The Future We All Pretend.
In The Future We All Pretend.
...

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The Fire and the Rose

If death greets us singly, one-by-one, alone

And asks why we should not be taken back,

The brave will say (or else the wiser grown)

That little terror lies along that track;

Since each knows well he lives in separate rooms

Though sometimes letting others stay awhile,

But still the doorway closes as a tomb

Excludes affliction, slights the sinner's ...

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