Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain;
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink
And rise and sink and rise and sink again;
Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath,
Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone;
Yet many a man is making friends with death
Even as I speak, for lack of love alone.
It well maybe that in a difficult hour,
Pinned down by pain and moaning for release,
Or nagged by want past resolution’s power,
I might be driven to sell your love for peace,
Or trade the memory of this night for food.
It well maybe. I do not think I would.
When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I
It feels good to be in your arms,
to feel the warmth of your touch.
I love to loo
Oh, dear,
Oh, my gosh,
I hope that no one saw,
I wish that I could laugh,
It's getting late, I must go
I had a beer where did it go
I had to pee. I know it
My eyes meet his,
Our hands touch,
Then our lips,
We are no longer on ear
From the first lingering glance
Shared by a pair of prying hearts
To the last diz
No other friend is quite like you.
No other friend could do exactly what you do.
There's a place on each road...
Where the street ends...
Well, there's one in you
I could fill the oceans with the tears I've cried
Or cover the entire earth with blankets
Some feelings are shallow, some feelings are deep.
Some make us smile, some make us weep.
