How leaden racks hone caller airs' detail As rain comes marching grandly through. Leaves thence All whisper soto voce as I hence What? listen to an airplane's voice, the pale Hours fraught beyond their import in betrayl, Cuz love and romance weren't my cuppa sense According to his measures, no. Fr'intents "Goodbye." now echoes hollowly sans bail. Let's know that dreams were only what we stir To frustrate colder truth's keen tooth. I knew That when I tweeted "dream come true" twas poor Cuz he'll not be mair than a dream. What do We, eh? Nor can aught choclate salve me fer All that. The Scriptures comfort. Let that do.