Out of the ash I rise with my red hair And I eat men like air.
Dying Is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well.
Let the rain kiss you Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops Let the rain sing you a lullaby The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk The rain makes running pools in the gutter The rain plays a little sleep song on our roof at night And I love the rain.
The storm starts when the drops start dropping. The storm stops when the drops stop dropping.
What we call the beginning is often the end And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.
Home is the place where, when you have to go there, They have to take you in.
Come live with me and be my Love, And we will all the pleasures prove That hills and valleys, dales and fields, Or woods or steepy mountain yields.
Listen! If stars are lit It means there is someone who needs it, It means someone wants them to be, That someone deems those specks of spit Magnificent!
And nothing to look backward to with pride, And nothing to look forward to with hope.
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.