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Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song, A medley of extemporanea; And love is a thing that can never read more
Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song, A medley of extemporanea; And love is a thing that can never go wrong; And I am Marie of Rumania
 Verse sweetens toil, however rude the sound;
 She feels no biting pang the while she sings,
  Nor read more 
 Verse sweetens toil, however rude the sound;
 She feels no biting pang the while she sings,
  Nor as she turns the giddy wheel around,
   Revolves the sad vicissitudes of things. 
I had wanted to say that my song was far too painful to sing.
I had wanted to say that my song was far too painful to sing.
That song, for me, is about drugs and alcohol and loss and love. It's about being proud of who you read more
That song, for me, is about drugs and alcohol and loss and love. It's about being proud of who you are, being proud of your situation and just being stoked that things are always going to get better or always gonna get worse and that's such a great thing. Every day is a new surprise.
 I cannot sing the old songs
 Though well I know the tune,
  Familiar as a cradle-song
 read more 
 I cannot sing the old songs
 Though well I know the tune,
  Familiar as a cradle-song
   With sleep-compelling croon;
    Yet though I'm filled with music,
     As choirs of summer birds,
      "I cannot sing the old songs"--
       I do not know the words. 
 She makes her hand hard with labour, and her heart soft with 
pity: and when winter evenings fall early read more 
 She makes her hand hard with labour, and her heart soft with 
pity: and when winter evenings fall early (sitting at her merry 
wheel), she sings a defiance to the giddy wheel of 
fortune . . . and fears no manner of ill because she means none. 
 Such songs have power to quiet
 The restless pulse of care,
  And come like the benediction
 read more 
 Such songs have power to quiet
 The restless pulse of care,
  And come like the benediction
   That follows after prayer. 
 Unlike my subject, I will make my song.
 It shall be witty, and it shan't be long.  
 Unlike my subject, I will make my song.
 It shall be witty, and it shan't be long. 
 I can not sing the old songs now!
 It is not that I deem them low,
  'Tis read more 
 I can not sing the old songs now!
 It is not that I deem them low,
  'Tis that I can't remember how
   They go.