The Tyrant's Blade no blood hath spilled
But doth the spirit carve
Soulcutter hath no body killed
But many left to starve.

if i wait for just a second more,
i know i'll forget what i came here for,
my head was so full of things to say,
but as i open my lips all my words slip away
and anyway,
i can't believe you want to turn the page,
and move your life onto another stage,
you can change the chapter you can change the book,
but the story remains the same if you'd take a look.

(chorus)
for the times we've had i don't want to be - a page in your diary babe,
for the good, the bad i don't want to see - a page in your diary babe,
for the happy, the sad - i don't want to be another page in your diary.

perhaps if i held you i could win again,
i could take your hands we'd talk and maybe then -
that look in your eyes i always recognise,
would tell me everything is gonna be fine,
you're gonna be mine
for a long time...

The Sword of Siege struck a hammer's blow
With a crash, and a smash, and a tumbled wall.
Stonecutter laid a castle low
With a groan, and a roar, and a tower's fall.

Long roads the Sword of Fury makes
Hard walls it builds around the soft
The fighter who Townsaver takes
Can bid farewell to home and croft

aaawww, didnt know you cared mirror....

What in the world, Mirror...did you write that??

Who holds Wayfinder finds good roads
Its master's step is brisk.
The Sword of Wisdom lightens loads
But adds unto their risk.

Its a song

Yaz,Nobodys Diary

Whose flesh the Sword of Mercy hurts has drawn no breath,
Whose soul it heals has wandered in the night,
Has paid the summing of all debts in death
Has turned to see returning light.

yup, he's a poet but he didnt know ...but feet show it !
and their big fella's too !

Here in my car
I feel safest of all
I can lock all my doors
It's the only way to live in cars

Here in my car
I can only receive
I can listen to you
It keeps me stable for days in cars

[Instrumental Interlude]

Here in my car
Where the image breaks down
Will you visit me please
If I open my door in cars

Here in my car
You know I've started to think
About leaving tonight
Although nothing seems right in cars

Thermopylae


Honour to those who in the life they lead
define and guard a Thermopylae.
Never betraying what is right,
consistent and just in all they do,
but showing pity also, and compassion;
generous when they're rich, and when they're poor,
still generous in small ways,
still helping as much as they can;
always speaking the truth,
yet without hating those who lie.

And even more honour is due to them
when they foresee (as many do foresee)
that Ephialtis will turn up in the end,
that the Medes will break through after all.

Constantine P. Cavafy

Waiting For The Barbarians


-What are we waiting for, assembled in the forum?


The barbarians are due here today.

-Why isn't anything going on in the senate?
Why are the senators sitting there without legislating?



Because the barbarians are coming today.
What's the point of senators making laws now?
Once the barbarians are here, they'll do the legislating.

-Why did our emperor get up so early,
and why is he sitting enthroned at the city's main gate,
in state, wearing the crown?



Because the barbarians are coming today
and the emperor's waiting to receive their leader.
He's even got a scroll to give him,
loaded with titles, with imposing names.

-Why have our two consuls and praetors come out today
wearing their embroidered, their scarlet togas?
Why have they put on bracelets with so many amethysts,
rings sparkling with magnificent emeralds?
Why are they carrying elegant canes
beautifully worked in silver and gold?



Because the barbarians are coming today
and things like that dazzle the barbarians.

-Why don't our distinguished orators turn up as usual
to make their speeches, say what they have to say?



Because the barbarians are coming today
and they're bored by rhetoric and public speaking.

-Why this sudden bewilderment, this confusion?
(How serious people's faces have become.)
Why are the streets and squares emptying so rapidly,
everyone going home lost in thought?



Because night has fallen and the barbarians haven't come.
And some of our men who have just returned from the border say
there are no barbarians any longer.

Now what's going to happen to us without barbarians?
Those people were a kind of solution.

Constantine P. Cavafy

Longings



Like the beautiful bodies of those who died before growing old,
sadly shut away in sumptuous mausoleum,
roses by the head, jasmine at the feet --
so appear the longings that have passed
without being satisfied, not one of them granted
a single night of pleasure, or one of its radiant mornings.

Constantine P. Cavafy

Voices


Loved, idealized voices
of those who have died, or of those
lost for us like the dead.

Sometimes they speak to us in dreams;
sometimes deep in thought the mind hears them.


And, with their sound, for a moment return
sounds from our life's first poetry -
like distant music fading away at night.

Constantine P. Cavafy

Walls


With no consideration, no pity, no shame,
they have built walls around me, thick and high.
And now I sit here feeling hopeless.
I can't think of anything else: this fate gnaws my mind -
because I had so much to do outside.
When they were building the walls, how could I not have noticed!
But I never heard the builders, not a sound.
Imperceptibly they have closed me off from the outside world.

Constantine P. Cavafy

Interruption


Hasty and inexperienced creatures of the moment,
it's we who interrupt the action of the gods.
In the palaces of Eleusis and Phthia,
Demeter and Thetis initiate good works
over high flames and heavy smoke.
But Metaneira always bursts in
from the royal quarters, hair loose, terrified,
and Peleus always gets scared and intervenes.

Constantine P. Cavafy

Candles

Days to come stand in front of us,
like a row of burning candles -
golden, warm, and vivid candles.

Days past fall behind us,
a gloomy line of burnt-out candles;
the nearest are still smoking,
cold, melted, and bent.


I don't want to look at them: their shape saddens me,
and it saddens me to remember their original light.
I look ahead at my burning candles.


I don't want to turn, don't want to see, terrified,
how quickly that dark line gets longer,
how quickly one more dead candle joins another.

Constantine P. Cavafy