The line between life and death is a fine line At it's best, the very start of life is wonderful Leaving everyone involved empowered and strong Paving a fruitful ground to generations to come Connecting and rejoicing Leaving room for growth and progress Changing lives forever At it's best the end of life is peaceful A long, resourceful life lived Memories to look back to with a smile Non, je ne regrette rien No, I don't regret a thing At it's worst, the very start of life is painful Suffering lasting all the way through No way out of a living hell, no way through No happily ever after But darkness that seems to never end At it's worst the end of life is agitated Broken dreams, a broken future A life taken away too early In the middle of it all All hopes vanished, a blurred vision A long and painful road to eternity Eyes remain shut The line between life and death is a very fine line And I believe in love And I know that you do too And I believe in some kind of path...

Once upon a time Liesl stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains She was wonderful. Life was phenomenal and impeccable. Until it wasn't anymore. Jarl knocked on Liesl's oak-wooden door at her home in a valley one fine sunny, Sunday afternoon. He introduced himself as an interventionist god. He apologized for having to intervene in her perfect life. There was too much perfection and too much happiness. He cut her wheat before it was ripe. He trampled on her tomatoes and tore her potatoes out of the ground. Jarl cursed Liesl's land. For no reason whatsoever. Jarl peed into her well so that all her drinking-water was contaminated. It was his duty to intervene. He fried Liesl's chicken and smashed all their eggs to the ground. Once I had mountains in the palm of my hand And rivers that ran through every day I must have been mad I never knew what I had Until I threw it all away

You live like you're afraid to die You'll die like you're afraid to go --- We build our house of cards  and then we wait for it to fall Always forget how strange it is just to be alive at all

"Avant Garde? French for Bullshit" Said John. A few years passed and John and his better half were promenating in pretty deep bullshit "Why she had to go, I don't know? She wouldn't say" Said Paul. John heard "Coming Up" and quit baking bread in order to return to the recording studios. Then just a breath later, moonlight shadow and he was shot. Paul wrote several silly love songs, and Yes, "Silly Love songs". "The only thing you done was Yesterday" Said John. They did their best work in their 20's Now it's the 20's once more, is this our best work?

These are the words of another Dick Gaughan Now westlin winds and slaughtering guns Bring autumn's pleasant weather The moorcock springs on whirring wings Among the blooming heather Now waving grain, wild o'er the plain Delights the weary farmer And the moon shines bright as I rove at night To muse upon my charmer The partridge loves the fruitful fells The plover loves the mountain The woodcock haunts the lonely dells The soaring hern the fountain Through lofty groves the cushat roves The path of man to shun it The hazel bush o'erhangs the thrush The spreading thorn the linnet Thus every kind their pleasure find The savage and the tender Some social join and leagues combine Some solitary wander Avaunt! Away! the cruel sway, Tyrannic man's dominion The sportsman's joy, the murdering cry The fluttering, gory pinion But Peggy dear the evening's clear Thick flies the skimming swallow The sky is blue, the fields in view  All fading green and yellow Come let us stray ...

  Now you're telling me,  you're not nostalgic Then give me another word for it Once upon a time there was a lot of gaiety in William's life Most his days were frolic and bright But those days were gone Now he was a man of old age with a heart filled with cynicism He used to be optimistic But the rough paths life had taken him on had made him cynical He used to love and be loved Laugh and be laughed at Drink and be drunk with Teach and be taught He used to do everything that a human soul needed to be spirited and nourished However these days he'd scorn and be scorned at His soul he had sold Though it was not too late for change He wanted to be frolic again So his medicine was to dwell on nostalgic feelings and tunes of the good old times And that he did until the day he died

 Once upon a time there was Melanie  Her gait was secure  Her poems were true  Her grandeur was bright  Her skill was shocking  She flooded every room she entered with sunlight  She was nordic noble  She turned every annoyance into joy  She bent the rainbow  She wanted to turn around on the shot run  She pushed throught all tides  She passed away  Life is not fair.