A little faith


A little faith for unyielding light

A little hope against brutish night.

A little strength upon each arid breath

A little sufferance against every wrath.

Shine a everlovin’ light on me…

The Midnight Special

The Midnight Special

Well, you wake up in the mornin’, you hear the work bell ring
And they march you to the table to see the same old thing
Ain’t no food upon the table, and no pork up in the pan
But you better not complain, boy, you get in trouble with the man

(Traditional folk song / John Fogerty)



In the low smoulder

you wear fine silk pajamas

and will be adored.

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