Hope Is Like A Hairball

And All Winds Go Sighing For Sweet Things Dying.

O Passing Angel, Speed Me With A Song, A Melody Of Heaven To Reach My Heart And Rouse Me To The Race And Make Me Strong.

Spring Bursts Today, For Love Is Risen And All The Earth's At Play.

The Lilies Say: Behold How We Preach Without Words Of Purity.

I Lock My Door Upon Myself, And Bar Them Out; But Who Shall Wall Self From Myself, Most Loathed Of All?