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It may be you fear more to deliver judgment upon me than I fear judgment.

quote by Giordano Bruno
Added by Lucian Velea
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Losing Life to Fear

In fear of being heard,

In fear of being understood,

In fear of not being heard,

In fear of not being understood,

In fear of being misheard,

In fear of being misunderstood,

In fear of hearing too much,

In fear of understanding too much,

In fear of saying too much,

In fear of saying too little,

In fear of being too enlightened,

In fear of not being factually correct,

In fear of being too bright,

In fear of being too ignorant,

In fear of being praised,

In fear of being bullied,

In fear of not being like others,

In fear of loosing my individuality,

In fear of being ostracized,

In fear of being camouflaged,

[...] Read more

poem by Suraj Samtani
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I'll Do My Best To Deliver

Ask me for what you want.
Just ask me,
Ask me.
And make it anything,
You need...
From me.

Ask me for what you want.
Ask me for what you need,
And I'll do my best to deliver.
Ask me.
Just ask me.

Ask me for what you want.
Just ask me.
Ask me.
Ask me for anything,
And I will fullfill...
That need.

Ask me for what you want.
Ask me for what you need,
And I'll do my best to deliver.
Ask me.
Just ask me.
And I'll do my best to deliver.
Ask me.
Just ask me.

Oh ask me for what you want.
Ask me for what you need,
And I'll do my best to deliver.
Ask me.
Just ask me.
And I will do my best to deliver.
Ask me.
Just ask me.
And I'll do my best to deliver.
Ask me.
Just ask me.
And I will do my best to deliver.

Just ask me for what you want.
Just ask me for what you need,
And I will do my best to deliver.

Come thunderstorms, rain or shine...
That pressure you have will be taken right off your mind.
I will do my best to deliver.
Just ask me...

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Fears of a teenage mafioso

Fear of love,
Fear of pain,
Fear of the unforgiving cane,
Fear of lies,
Fear of sighs,
Fear of those distraught eyes,
Fear for the unknown,
Fear for the known,
Fear of everything combined,
Fear is what makes me blind,
Fear is what makes me think,
and act in blind accordance,
Hindering the world around me,
Hence, My Fear of myself
Fear is when you run away,
Fear is when you’re scared to love someone,
Fear is when the sky turns grey,
Fear of confusion,
Fear is like a dark blue ocean,
Fear won’t let me escape
Fear mocks me, watching
Fear taunts me, waiting
Fear of losing,
Fear you cannot see,
Fear dealt upon thee.
Fear of darkness and death,
Fear of a dead comrade,
Fear of a gun being cocked,
Fear of being endlessly stalked,
Fear of time,
Fear of all the crime,
Fear of the undesirable truth,
Fear for the good.
Fear for the sake of life,
Fear of the neighbors next door,
Fear of the secretive man in the subway,
Fear of the revolutionary uproar,
Fear is to not rejoice your living,
Fear for the sake of your life,
But to fear is to forsake it.
Fear is to have no hope in life,
Fear of the fear of fear,
We need no reason to fear,
For fear has no reason for itself.
I guess life is just like that,
To fear for no reason,
For to fear is not to reason,
But to reason is to fear.
To fear for the sake of fear,
Is fear for fear,

[...] Read more

poem by David daveres
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Deliver Me

deliver me...
from the fury, the noise,
and the roar of the wheel...
deliver me...
from my own insecurities,
my unconscious greed,
and my self driven fears.
deliver me...
from my conceptual understanding,
my limited knowledge,
and my worship of knowledge.
deliver me...
from all anger and hatred
in whatever disguise...
deliver me...
from being driven by
mouth and stomach unchecked,
from what i think i need.
deliver me..
from my countless mistakes,
and the excuses i make!
deliver me...
from any kind of pride
that closes the open hand!
deliver me...
from any sense of self
that would seperate and divide.
deliver me...
from laziness and tiredness,
from bitterness and lonliness.
deliver me...
from all forms of apathy,
and the want to possess...
deliver me...
and bring me to realize myself!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Litany

I.

THE FATHER.

FATHER of Heaven, and Him, by whom
It, and us for it, and all else for us,
Thou madest, and govern'st ever, come
And re-create me, now grown ruinous:
My heart is by dejection, clay,
And by self-murder, red.
From this red earth, O Father, purge away
All vicious tinctures, that new-fashioned
I may rise up from death, before I'm dead.

II.
THE SON.

O Son of God, who, seeing two things,
Sin and Death, crept in, which were never made,
By bearing one, tried'st with what stings
The other could Thine heritage invade ;
O be Thou nail'd unto my heart,
And crucified again ;
Part not from it, though it from Thee would part,
But let it be by applying so Thy pain,
Drown'd in Thy blood, and in Thy passion slain.

III.

THE HOLY GHOST.

O Holy Ghost, whose temple I
Am, but of mud walls , and condensèd dust,
And being sacrilegiously
Half wasted with youth's fires of pride and lust,
Must with new storms be weather-beat,
Double in my heart Thy flame,
Which let devout sad tears intend, and let—
Though this glass lanthorn, flesh, do suffer maim—
Fire, sacrifice, priest, altar be the same.

IV.

THE TRINITY.

O blessed glorious Trinity,
Bones to philosophy, but milk to faith,

[...] Read more

poem by John Donne
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An Essay on Criticism

Part I

INTRODUCTION. That it is as great a fault to judge ill as to write ill, and a more dangerous one to the public. That a true Taste is as rare to be found as a true Genius. That most men are born with some Taste, but spoiled by false education. The multitude of Critics, and causes of them. That we are to study our own Taste, and know the limits of it. Nature the best guide of judgment. Improved by Art and rules, which are but methodized Nature. Rules derived from the practice of the ancient poets. That therefore the ancients are necessary to be studied by a Critic, particularly Homer and Virgil. Of licenses, and the use of them by the ancients. Reverence due to the ancients, and praise of them.

'Tis hard to say if greater want of skill
Appear in writing or in judging ill;
But of the two less dangerous is th'offence
To tire our patience than mislead our sense:
Some few in that, but numbers err in this;
Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss;
A fool might once himself alone expose;
Now one in verse makes many more in prose.

'Tis with our judgments as our watches, none
Go just alike, yet each believes his own.
In Poets as true Genius is but rare,
True Taste as seldom is the Critic's share;
Both must alike from Heav'n derive their light,
These born to judge, as well as those to write.
Let such teach others who themselves excel,
And censure freely who have written well;
Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true,
But are not Critics to their judgment too?

Yet if we look more closely, we shall find
Most have the seeds of judgment in their mind:
Nature affords at least a glimm'ring light;
The lines, tho' touch'd but faintly, are drawn right:
But as the slightest sketch, if justly traced,
Is by ill col'ring but the more disgraced,
So by false learning is good sense defaced:
Some are bewilder'd in the maze of schools,
And some made coxcombs Nature meant but fools:
In search of wit these lose their common sense,
And then turn Critics in their own defence:
Each burns alike, who can or cannot write,
Or with a rival's or an eunuch's spite.
All fools have still an itching to deride,
And fain would be upon the laughing side.
If Mævius scribble in Apollo's spite,
There are who judge still worse than he can write.

Some have at first for Wits, then Poets pass'd;
Turn'd Critics next, and prov'd plain Fools at last.
Some neither can for Wits nor Critics pass,
As heavy mules are neither horse nor ass.
Those half-learn'd witlings, numerous in our isle,
As half-form'd insects on the banks of Nile;
Unfinish'd things, one knows not what to call,

[...] Read more

poem by Alexander Pope
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The Rosciad

Unknowing and unknown, the hardy Muse
Boldly defies all mean and partial views;
With honest freedom plays the critic's part,
And praises, as she censures, from the heart.

Roscius deceased, each high aspiring player
Push'd all his interest for the vacant chair.
The buskin'd heroes of the mimic stage
No longer whine in love, and rant in rage;
The monarch quits his throne, and condescends
Humbly to court the favour of his friends;
For pity's sake tells undeserved mishaps,
And, their applause to gain, recounts his claps.
Thus the victorious chiefs of ancient Rome,
To win the mob, a suppliant's form assume;
In pompous strain fight o'er the extinguish'd war,
And show where honour bled in every scar.
But though bare merit might in Rome appear
The strongest plea for favour, 'tis not here;
We form our judgment in another way;
And they will best succeed, who best can pay:
Those who would gain the votes of British tribes,
Must add to force of merit, force of bribes.
What can an actor give? In every age
Cash hath been rudely banish'd from the stage;
Monarchs themselves, to grief of every player,
Appear as often as their image there:
They can't, like candidate for other seat,
Pour seas of wine, and mountains raise of meat.
Wine! they could bribe you with the world as soon,
And of 'Roast Beef,' they only know the tune:
But what they have they give; could Clive do more,
Though for each million he had brought home four?
Shuter keeps open house at Southwark fair,
And hopes the friends of humour will be there;
In Smithfield, Yates prepares the rival treat
For those who laughter love, instead of meat;
Foote, at Old House,--for even Foote will be,
In self-conceit, an actor,--bribes with tea;
Which Wilkinson at second-hand receives,
And at the New, pours water on the leaves.
The town divided, each runs several ways,
As passion, humour, interest, party sways.
Things of no moment, colour of the hair,
Shape of a leg, complexion brown or fair,
A dress well chosen, or a patch misplaced,
Conciliate favour, or create distaste.
From galleries loud peals of laughter roll,
And thunder Shuter's praises; he's so droll.
Embox'd, the ladies must have something smart,

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Churchill
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Mama

Mama
Please be good, please be good to me
Mama
Please be good, please be good to me
Mama
Hovering over me at night
Mama
Comfort me, make me feel all right
I walk alone and see what boys should never
See in their lifetime
I live in the world of spirits
And I talk to the walls
Deliver me from
This little hell
Deliver me from
This little hell
Deliver me from
Mama
Come and take, come and take my hand
Mama
Try and see, try to understand
Mama
Looking through, looking through my eyes
Mama
Everywhere, always in disguise
I walk alone and see what boys should never
See in their lifetime
I live in the world of spirits
And I talk to the walls
Deliver me from
This little hell
Deliver me from
This little hell
Deliver me from
Mama
Please be good, please be good to me
Mama
Please be good, please be good to me
I walk alone and see what boys should never see
I hear what boys should never hear
In their lifetime
I live in the world of spirits
And I talk to the walls
Deliver me from
This little hell
Deliver me from
This little hell
Deliver me from
Mama
Please be good . . .

song performed by Oingo Boingo
Added by Lucian Velea
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Loath and Fear

If I would rely on phrenology,
Or science, or mythology,
I'd burn down this damned city
And disembark in a conclusion
Of the ugly veracity:
I loathe everything!
I fear everything!
I loathe that I am writing about loathing
And I fear that I might lose every one
Though I barely have anyone,
So I loathe even more on this fear.
I loathe that I write about myself all the time, and
I fear that I might not be writing at all
I loathe that I would narrate a story
In the surreal slopes of enigma, and
I fear, afterwards, that no one will pry
To understand or even console.
I loathe that my mouth cannot mouth
What my hands opted to write, and
I fear that my hands aren't equipped
To write what I cannot mouth.
I loathe even more that I build walls
For people to beat down and divulge
The forlorn boy inside, and yet
I fear to be found.
And I loathe to the point of breaking
That no one ever cared to pry
And that makes me shudder in fear, and
I fear this kind of loathing
And loathe this kind of fear.
I loathe that I cannot gain readers, and
I fear that I may never have
I loathe that readers appreciates the writing
But not the congealed brook
Between the lines of it, and
I fear that they might not even
Appreciate the spilled blood
In every line of it.
I loathe, I fear,
That apart from writing
I am never good at anything
Except maybe from fearing and loathing.
I loathe that I blame the past
For making me loathe a lot, and
For making me fear a lot
For making me loathe sports, and
For making me fear trying
And all the brusquely recreations
And the shame of failing.
I loathe, I fear,

[...] Read more

poem by Norman Santos
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Touch My Body

Can you , can you ,
can you , can you , can you
Touch my body make me feel like I never felt
deliver it make me shiver up from head to toe
move my waist line side to side
come on push up on me im feeling hot tonight
can touch my body make me feel like I never felt
deliver it make me shiver up from head to toe
move my waist line side to side
come on push up on me im feeling hot tonight
What i gotta do to get a little closer to you (to you)
i been watching you i really want to get to know you (know you)
im kinda felling your vibe as i look in your eyes
and your watching my thighs moving left to right
so whatcha wanna do (wanna do)
you come to me and i'll come to you (ohh)
Can you touch my body make me feel like i never felt
deliver it make me shiver up from head to toe
move my waist line side to side
come on push up on me im feeling hot tonight
can touch my body make me feel like I never felt
deliver it make me shiver up from head to toe
move my waist line side to side
come on push up on me im feeling hot tonight
If I could be alone with you this is what I would do (I would do)
I would grab you by the hand and begin to show you ( show you ) (yeah)
how to make it real hot never want it to stop
take it up to the top make my body rock
so whatcha gonna do (gonna do)
you come to me and Ill come to you (oh , oh , oh)
Can you touch my body make me feel like I never felt
deliver it make me shiver up from head to toe
move my waist line side to side
come on push up on me im feeling hot tonight
can touch my body make me feel like i never felt
deliver it make me shiver up from head to toe......
move my waist line side to side
come on push up on me im feeling hot tonight
Now can you rocket up (rocket up)
dont stop just move your waist line from side to side
now as you push it up (push it up)
and do the body right (do the body right , do the body right)
now can you rocket up (rocket up)
dont stop just move your waist line from side to side
now as you push it up (push it up)
and do the body right (do the body right , do the body right)
Can you touch my body make me feel like I never felt
deliver it make me shiver up from head to toe
move my waist line side to side
come on push up on me im feeling hot tonight

[...] Read more

song performed by Ashanti
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Sorcerer: Act I

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

Sir Marmaduke Pointdextre, an Elderly Baronet

Alexis, of the Grenadier Guards--His Son

Dr. Daly, Vicar of Ploverleigh

John Wellington Wells, of J. W. Wells & Co., Family Sorcerers

Lady Sangazure, a Lady of Ancient Lineage

Aline, Her Daughter--betrothed to Alexis

Mrs. Partlet, a Pew-Opener

Constance, her Daughter

Chorus of Villagers

ACT I -- Grounds of Sir Marmaduke's Mansion, Mid-day

SCENE -- Exterior of Sir Marmaduke's Elizabethan Mansion, mid-day.

CHORUS OF VILLAGERS

Ring forth, ye bells,
With clarion sound--
Forget your knells,
For joys abound.
Forget your notes
Of mournful lay,
And from your throats
Pour joy to-day.

For to-day young Alexis--young Alexis Pointdextre
Is betrothed to Aline--to Aline Sangazure,
And that pride of his sex is--of his sex is to be next her
At the feast on the green--on the green, oh, be sure!

Ring forth, ye bells etc.
(Exeunt the men into house.)

(Enter Mrs. Partlet with Constance, her daughter)

RECITATIVE

MRS. P. Constance, my daughter, why this strange depression?

[...] Read more

poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Deliver Me

Deliver me from darkness.
Deliver me from pain.
Deliver me from loneliness
and let love remain.

Deliver me from blindness.
Deliver me from chains.
Deliver me from unhappiness
and let drops of rain

Shower me with acceptance,
Shower me with song,
Shower me with goodness.
Deliver me from wrong.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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A Dirge of the Morning After

VOICE OF THE PEOPLE (wailing dismally):
'Who can deliver us, Lord of our destiny!
Out of the depths comes our passionate cry,
Wrung from the soul of us. Aid for the whole of us!
Tell us, we pray, that our succor is nigh.

'Where is the super-man? Where the deliverer?
Where is the Captain to win us relief
Surcease from sorrowing, respite from borrowing?
Oh, for a philtre to deaden our grief!'

ANXIOUS VOICE FROM RIGHT WING:
'Patience, 0 populace! Wait for a little while!
Labor shall succor you - cleave to your Jim!
James and the rest of them, sure, are the best of them
Jimmy, the agable, trust ye to him!

'Lo, from the Chosen lures he the capital.
Bright golden, capital! Glorious loans!
Millions and mill-i-ons! Soon 'twill be bill-i-ons!
Patience awhile till he floats 'em.' (Loud groans.)

VOICE OF THE PEOPLE (irritably):
'Jim? Oh, be d-d to him. Doors are all slammed to him
Cohen's and Isaac's and old Ikey Mo's.
We would live decently! Up the spout recently
He has shoved everything barring our clothes.

(Again dolefully)
'Who can deliver us? Is there no saviour?
Is there no Chief with a Will and a Plan?
Not in a city-full? Oh, it is pitiful!
The hour it is striking - but where is the man?'

VOICE FROM LEFT WING (eagerly)
'Cheer up, my countrymen! Here is your Gregory!
Long he!s been shut from the councils of State.
He'll banish care for you; he'll do and dare for you.
Wade is the captain to fashion your fate.

'Long was he languishing, sunk in obscurity;
Now his wise counsel the populace seeks.
He is the man for you; he'll plot and plan for you.

[...] Read more

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society

Epigraph

Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.

I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.

You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning (1871)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi

Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Its That Fear

It's that fear
Ooo very scary! !
I bet you don't know it
Keeps you worried

It's that fear...
Very loud in your ear..
But not everyone could hear

It's that fear
Why? Y u even here
Leaving people in tears..

It's that fear
Born and raised
Can be of denial
Struggles, family or revival

It's that fear
That keeps consuming..
Consuming us in out! !
Eating us away...

It's that fear
The fear we hate
Come to us in pace
In life circumstance

It's that fear
Can anyone hear?
Like a monster or dear?
I wish it was fair..

it's that fear
Some say never fear
But in the back they tear
Overwhelmed can't even dare
Trying to overcome the fear..

It's that fear
The fear which keep us
Us alive and awake
Awake from unexpected

Awake to fight against
It's that fear
I want all to hear..
You and me here..
We need to chase Mr. Fear

[...] Read more

poem by Lulu Mero
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Fear

Fear of seeing a police car pull into the drive.
Fear of falling asleep at night.
Fear of not falling asleep.
Fear of the past rising up.
Fear of the present taking flight.
Fear of the telephone that rings in the dead of night.
Fear of electrical storms.
Fear of the cleaning woman who has a spot on her cheek!
Fear of dogs I've been told won't bite.
Fear of anxiety!
Fear of having to identify the body of a dead friend.
Fear of running out of money.
Fear of having too much, though people will not believe this.
Fear of psychological profiles.
Fear of being late and fear of arriving before anyone else.
Fear of my children's handwriting on envelopes.
Fear they'll die before I do, and I'll feel guilty.
Fear of having to live with my mother in her old age, and mine.
Fear of confusion.
Fear this day will end on an unhappy note.
Fear of waking up to find you gone.
Fear of not loving and fear of not loving enough.
Fear that what I love will prove lethal to those I love.
Fear of death.
Fear of living too long.
Fear of death.

I've said that.

poem by Raymond Clevie Carver
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Very Last Day

(stokey / yarrow)
Everybodys gonna pray
On the very last day
When they hear that bell
Ring the world away
Everybodys gonna pray to the heavens on the judgment day
Well you can sing about the great king david
And you can preach about the wisdom of saul
But the judgment falls on all mankind
When the trumpet sounds the call
All equal and the same
When the lord, he calls your name
Get ready brothers for that day
Everybodys gonna pray
On the very last day
When they hear that bell
Ring the world away
Everybodys gonna pray to the heavens on the judgment day
Well one day soon all men will stand
His words will be heeded in all the land
Men shall know and men shall see
We all are brothers and we all are free
Mankind was made of clay
Each of us in the very same way
Get ready brothers for that day
Everybodys gonna pray
On the very last day
When they hear that bell
Ring the world away
Everybodys gonna pray to the heavens on the judgment day
Break
Well the law is given and the law is known
The tale is told and the seed is sown
From dust we came and dust well go
You know the lord once told us so
Each brother take his hand
Heed the meaning of the lords command
Get ready brother for that day
Everybodys gonna pray
On the very last day
When they hear that bell
Ring the world away
Everybodys gonna pray to the heavens on the judgment day
Judgment day
Judgment day
Judgment day

song performed by Hollies
Added by Lucian Velea
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Devotion

If I am right
If I can be
Constant and faithful
Youll find me
In my devotion
In my devotion
What if you find a fault
Between my purpose and my deeds
And deem me beyond salvation
Judge me to be unworthy
Of your devotion
Of your devotion
If this be obsession deliver me
A passing infatuation deliver me
A feeling lacking in purity deliver me
A test of fidelity deliver me
Deliver me
Deliver me
What if I should find
Youre no good for me
What if I cant be strong enough
What if I cant break free
Of my devotion
Of my devotion

song performed by Tracy Chapman
Added by Lucian Velea
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Deliver Me

Every woman and every man,
Knows the feeling so well
Those times when the heart just cant understand,
The times when you never can te ll
So deliver me, deliver me
Baby take this heart, set it free
Take this chance, take this dream
Baby take this heart
Deliver me
I was born with something down inside of me
And its carried me over, delivered me
Y eah delivered me, Im standing at your gate
Just out of reach of the hands of fate
So deliver me, deliver me
Baby take this heart, set it free
Take this chance, take this dream
Baby take this heart
Deliver me
Sometim es I wonder if this is worth the trouble
Sometimes I wonder if this is worth the fight
I never have made my mind up about it
Ive just decided to let it all ride

song performed by Tom Petty
Added by Lucian Velea
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