To max out gross pleasure, from what I can glean.
Is to do what you want, go learn from Epstein.
But net the destruction and you’ll find instead
That your life’s net pleasure may end in the red.

The highest net pleasure is loving yourself.
So focus on you, take care of your health.
But mothers who pour out themselves for their young.
Despite self neglect, will have their names sung.  

The highest net pleasure is loving your kind,
Your family, your friends, all humans alive.
Although you are close, there's still room to err,
if man is your god, then God’s not your share.

The highest net pleasure then is to love God.
He’ll have you love others and you’ll have his nod.
Now pain will have purpose though may still be grim.
He made you for pleasure, but pleasure in him.

Secretly we dated.
I was a ship being moored
And she was the wild sea
that didn’t follow the Lord.

I led her into faith,
she made my God her rudder.
Then reported to me,
God wants her with another.

I'll only say it once
and I'll say it really fast.

Why's it matter?
You'll be tested.

Have you used this?
Yes, I teach it.

There's fear in you that you can't see.
It's why you're numb with apathy.
It's why you never want to try.
It's why you're working 9 to die,

It's why you put yourself in line.
It's why you lie and say you're fine.
It's why you stand when you should dance.
It's why you're waiting for your "chance".

It's been seven years
And too many tears.
I pray that we are still friends.

It's hard to word right
To be true yet be light.
Can't tell what I'm trying to mend.

Embarrassed to say
I hate it's this way
that your hurt is my hurt too.

If only I could,
I swear that I would
feel all of your pain for you.

What is sometimes hard to take,
hard to ask,
hard to make?

What can sometimes search with breadth,
Or can aim,
Or have depth?

What can sometimes move a pen,
move a nation,
Move it's men?

What can sometimes show you care,
or be loaded,
Or unfair?

What can sometimes take your sleep,
make you happy,
make you weep?

I told my friends I hated music,
that it was a waste of time.
And it wasn't till I liked a girl,
she made her music mine.

When things ended; I was moping,
So it hurt to hear her songs.
Yet I craved them since was coping,
and my drive was very long.

Sixteen hours I heard Mumford
and he reassured to me.
Love won't dismay nor will enslave,
But will always set you free.