Swinging alone on the wings of a song, while I lie insecure, self righteous and sure

God given duty

What happens now

A lot of nothing over and over and over

Organized crime

Doth the working man suffer

Your age will most probably carry away the letters enveloped in carrion. Vague unpleasantries of the war

You can’t take a man away from his children

the factories are hiring

Widows walk