I would liken you

Sitting lonely in the marble and the moonlight,Quiet for ten thousand centuries, old Abe.Quiet for a million, million years.Quiet-And yet a voice foreverAgainst theTimeless wallsOf time-Old Abe.

LISTEN HUNGRY ONES!Look! See what Vanity Fair says about thenew Waldorf-Astoria:‘All the luxuries of private home. . . .’Now, won’t that be charming when the last flop-househas turned you down this winter?Furthermore:‘It is far beyond anything hitherto attempted in the hotelworld. . . .’ It cost twenty-eight million dollars. The fa-mous Oscar Tschirky is in…

Empty, but clean,When a man starts to build a world,He starts first with himselfAnd the faith that is in his heart-The strength there,The will there to build.First in the heart is the dream-Then the mind starts seeking a way.His eyes look out on the world,On the great wooded world,On the rich soil of the world,On…

But the gray moth circled the flameUntil the break of day.And then, with wings like a dead desire,She fell, fire-caught, into the flame.

Touching my body of utter death-Tell me, O quickly! dream of aliveness,The flaming source of your bright breath.Tell me, O dream of utter aliveness-Knowing so well the wind and the sun-Where is this lightYour eyes see forever?And what is the windYou touch when you run?

Kids say,In places likeChicago and New York…In places likeChicago and New YorkKids say,In places likeLondon and Paris…In places likeLondon and ParisKids say,In places likeChicago and New York…

Let the rain sing you a lullabyThe rain makes still pools on the sidewalkThe rain makes running pools in the gutterThe rain plays a little sleep song on our roof at nightAnd I love the rain.

Nor everThrough compromise and fear.I have as much rightAs the other fellow hasTo standOn my two feetAnd own the land.I tire so of hearing people say,Let things take their course.Tomorrow is another day.I do not need my freedom when I’m dead.I cannot live on tomorrow’s bread.FreedomIs a strong seedPlantedIn a great need.I live here, too.I…

Got to leave this town causeIt’s a lonesome place.A po’, po’ boy can’tFind a friendly face.Goin’ down to de riverFlowin’ deep an’ slow.Goin’ down to de riverDeep an’ slow-Cause there ain’t no worriesWhere de waters go.I’m weary, weary,Weary, as I can be.Weary, weary,Weary as can be.This life’s so weary,‘S’ bout to overcome me.

flow of human blood in human veinsMy soul has grown deep like the rivers.I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were youngI built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincolnwent down to…

LISTEN HUNGRY ONES!Look! See what Vanity Fair says about thenew Waldorf-Astoria:‘All the luxuries of private home. . . .’Now, won’t that be charming when the last flop-househas turned you down this winter?Furthermore:‘It is far beyond anything hitherto attempted in the hotelworld. . . .’ It cost twenty-eight million dollars. The fa-mous Oscar Tschirky is in…

Cause there ain’t no senseIn my bein’ dead.