I Would Rather Be Tied

The Glorious Gifts Of The Gods Are Not To Be Cast Aside.

't Is Fortune Gives Us Birth, But Jove Alone Endues The Soul With Worth.

The Son Of Saturn Gave The Nod With His Dark Brows. The Ambrosial Curls Upon The Sovereign One's Immortal Head Were Shaken, And With Them The Mighty Mount, Olympus Trembled.

I Long For Home, Long For The Sight Of Home.

Sleep, Delicious And Profound, The Very Counterfeit Of Death