A Loaf Of Bread, A

I Hide My Distress, Just Likethe Blessed Birds Hide Themselveswhen They Are Preparing To Die. Wine! Wine, Roses, Music And Yourindifference To My Sadness, My Loved-one!

The Grape That Can With Logic Absolute The Two-and-seventy Jarring Sects Confute: The Sovereign Alchemist That In A Trice Life's Leaden Metal Into Gold Transmute.

If I Don't Enjoy Myself Now, When Shall I?

I Hide My Grief, Just Like The Blessed Birds Hide Themselves When They Are Preparing To Die, My Love.

Dead Yesterdays And Unborn Tomorrows, Why Fret About It, If Today Be Sweet.