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Advancement only comes with habitually doing more than you are asked.

quote by Gary Ryan Blair
Added by Lucian Velea
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Believed' To Be Behind Faked Walls

Darker currents appear to unnerve and disturb.
Coming as they do...
To shake up the doubters.
Hushing but not 'yet' to close those mouths...
Still habitually tossing their standards valued.
Still habitually tossing their way of life,
And lives of others they push around and about.

Torment and heartache they come to face.

And it is with faith.
And it is with hope prayed...
That 'Something' arrives,
To rattle them away and out of their cages...
To scope.

'It is hard to contain a hatred with those biases made.'
Something within them rattles them out of their cages.
'It is hard to contain a hatred with those biases made.'
Something within them rattles them out of their cages.

There is a power that is conscious!
A power few can define.
And nevertheless this power felt,
Is a power 'Divine' no one can define.

'It is hard to contain a hatred with those biases made.'
Something within them rattles them out of their cages.
'It is hard to contain a hatred with those biases made.'
Something within them rattles them out of their cages.

Whatever is 'believed' to be behind faked walls,
Should be painstakenly reconsidered...
As a process of thorough and immediate investigation.

Darker currents appear to unnerve and disturb.
Coming as they do...
To shake up the doubters.
Hushing but not 'yet' to close those mouths...
Still habitually tossing their standards valued.
Still habitually tossing their way of life,
And lives of others they push around and about.

'It is hard to contain a hatred with those biases made.'

Whatever is 'believed' to be behind faked walls,
Should be painstakenly reconsidered...
As a process of thorough and immediate investigation.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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How Many Times Have You Asked Yourself

Finally...
You reach home.
Believing you are sheltered.
And will get deserving rest!
Then suddenly the phone rings.
To leave you wondering,
If the caller is someone you should address.

And with unanswered questions,
You unleash from your mind...
What should be done next!

You want to know...
How many times,
Have you...
Asked yourself,
How many times...
You've asked yourself,
How could you find...
Yourself in the middle of somebody else's mess!

How many times,
Have you...
Asked yourself,
How many times...
You've asked yourself,
How could you find...
Yourself in the middle of somebody else's mess!
When you have issues you have not yet to address.

How many times,
Have you...
Asked yourself,
How many times...
You've asked yourself,
How could you find...
Yourself in the middle of somebody else's mess!

Relax?
You can't!
A tension is enhanced.
The phone keeps ringing to erase the chance.
And...

How many times,
Have you...
Asked yourself,
How many times...
You've asked yourself,
How could you find...

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Those Who Habitually Lie

Those who habitually lie,
Will try their best to decieve others...
With performances to convince,
That the ones unafraid to speak the truth...
Pursue the doing of it,
To purposely mistreat them.
By a direct use of honesty.
As if someone intentionally slit their wrists to bleed.

Those who habitually lie...
Seem to have a compulsive need,
To disguise a hiding of their acceptance of truth.
And character assassinate the ones they please.

Much disrespect is done to the ones,
Habitual liars attempt to project their pretentions on.
With facades of sobs and a childish innocence,
To depict themselves as having only sincerity meant.
That is quick to surface to argue against,
Anyone who dares to put a dent...
In a carefully charaded integerity,
Masked by a defense when offended.

Those who habitually lie...
Seem to have a compulsive need,
To disguise a hiding of their acceptance of truth.
And character assassinate the ones they choose.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Change

The other day I walked accross the street
i couldnt believe what I appeared to see...
as I looked at a poor boy who came to me
I asked him his name and he didnt know
he just asked me for change.

I asked where is your mum?
he just asked me for change
I asked where is your dad?
he just asked me for change
I asked will someone come?
he just asked me for change
I asked why are you sad?

with no response to my question there was a pause...

but then once again he asked me for change
see, as i watched him dissapear with his pain
I realised that he actualy asked me...

for a change.

poem by Daniel McCann
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Gareth And Lynette

The last tall son of Lot and Bellicent,
And tallest, Gareth, in a showerful spring
Stared at the spate. A slender-shafted Pine
Lost footing, fell, and so was whirled away.
'How he went down,' said Gareth, 'as a false knight
Or evil king before my lance if lance
Were mine to use--O senseless cataract,
Bearing all down in thy precipitancy--
And yet thou art but swollen with cold snows
And mine is living blood: thou dost His will,
The Maker's, and not knowest, and I that know,
Have strength and wit, in my good mother's hall
Linger with vacillating obedience,
Prisoned, and kept and coaxed and whistled to--
Since the good mother holds me still a child!
Good mother is bad mother unto me!
A worse were better; yet no worse would I.
Heaven yield her for it, but in me put force
To weary her ears with one continuous prayer,
Until she let me fly discaged to sweep
In ever-highering eagle-circles up
To the great Sun of Glory, and thence swoop
Down upon all things base, and dash them dead,
A knight of Arthur, working out his will,
To cleanse the world. Why, Gawain, when he came
With Modred hither in the summertime,
Asked me to tilt with him, the proven knight.
Modred for want of worthier was the judge.
Then I so shook him in the saddle, he said,
"Thou hast half prevailed against me," said so--he--
Though Modred biting his thin lips was mute,
For he is alway sullen: what care I?'

And Gareth went, and hovering round her chair
Asked, 'Mother, though ye count me still the child,
Sweet mother, do ye love the child?' She laughed,
'Thou art but a wild-goose to question it.'
'Then, mother, an ye love the child,' he said,
'Being a goose and rather tame than wild,
Hear the child's story.' 'Yea, my well-beloved,
An 'twere but of the goose and golden eggs.'

And Gareth answered her with kindling eyes,
'Nay, nay, good mother, but this egg of mine
Was finer gold than any goose can lay;
For this an Eagle, a royal Eagle, laid
Almost beyond eye-reach, on such a palm
As glitters gilded in thy Book of Hours.
And there was ever haunting round the palm
A lusty youth, but poor, who often saw

[...] Read more

poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Experience Is God

I asked, ‘What comes with birth? '
Born and see, God ordered!
I asked, ‘What is said to be education? '
Study and see God ordered!

I asked, ‘What is knowledge? '
Know and see God ordered!
I asked, ‘What is kindness? '
Be kind and shower, God ordered!

I asked, ‘What is love? '
Share with others, God ordered!
I asked, ‘What pleasure do you get from wife? '
Marry and experience, God ordered!

I asked, ‘Who is child to you? '
Get a child for you, God ordered!
I asked, ‘What is old age? '
Become old and observe God ordered!

I asked, ‘What is poverty? '
Toil and see God ordered!
I asked, ‘What happens after death? '
Die and see God ordered!

If anyone wants to know what is life,
And he has to experience and know,
Then why are you, GOD?

GOD said, ‘O' poor man,
The experience itself is ME!

poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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Bible in Poetry: Gospel of St. Matthew (Chapter 26)

Then Jesus told His disciples,
‘’Twill be Pass-ov’r in two days’ time;
The Son of Man will handed be
Over to them who crucify! ’

So, chief priests and all elders there
Assembled in Caiaphas’ palace.
They consulted with the high priest
On how to arrest Jesus by
Treachery and put Him to death.
They decided not to do so,
During the festival-time as
A riot, people could then cause.

In Bethany, while Jesus was
Within Simon, the leper’s house,
There came a woman with a jar
Of costly, perfumed oil and poured
It on his head while he reclined.

His disciples grew indignant
And asked, ‘Why waste such costly oil?
The money could have been given
Better to poor as charity! ’

As Jesus knew this, He told them,
‘Don’t you trouble the woman as,
A good thing for me, done, she has! ’

‘The poor can always have you but
You’ll not have me with you always.
By pouring oil on my body,
She prepared it for burial! ’

‘Amen, amen, I say to you,
Wherever this gospel is proclaimed
On earth, her act will be retold,
And lauded in her memory.’

Then one amongst the Twelve, Judas
Iscariot went to the chief priests
And asked, ‘What will you give to me,
If I hand him over to you? ’
They paid him thirty silver coins.
From that time onwards, he looked for
A chance to hand Jesus over.

When on the first day of the Feast
Of Unleavened Bread, disciples
Asked, ‘Where do you want us to prepare

[...] Read more

poem by John Celes
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Bible in Poetry: Gospel of St. John (Chapter 6)

When Jesus went across the Sea
Of Galilee, a crowd followed;
They saw His miracles on sick;
He ascended the mountain-slope
And sat down with His disciples;
The Feast of Passover was near.

Then Jesus saw a large crowd come;
He asked Philip, ‘Where to buy food? ’
He asked this just to test Philip.
He knew what He’as going to do.
Then Philip replied, ‘Two hundred
Days’ wages worth food wouldn’t suffice.’

Andrew told Jesus, ‘There’s a boy
With barley loaves five and fish two.
It wouldn’t do well for such a crowd.’

Then Jesus told the crowd to rest.
Five thousand people sat on grass.
Then Jesus took the loaves, gave thanks
And had it shared along with fish.
When all had eaten indeed well,
Jesus told, ‘Gather all fragments.’
It was twelve wicker basketsful.

When people saw the miracle,
They accepted Jesus, Prophet-
The one who had come to the world!
They wanted to make Him the king.
So, Jesus withdrew to mountain.

When evening came, they went by boat,
Across the sea to Capernaum.
While traveling, it turned quite dark;
The sea was rough with fierce a wind.

When they had gone three miles off-shore,
They saw Jesus come walk on sea
Towards the boat, and grew afraid.
But Jesus said, ‘It’s I, Don’t fear! ’
They thought Jesus would come aboard;
But suddenly, the boat reached shore!

They realized the next day that
The disciples had come by boat
But Jesus did not come by same!
From Tiberias, other boats came.

As Jesus had not arrived still,

[...] Read more

poem by John Celes
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Sixth Book

THE English have a scornful insular way
Of calling the French light. The levity
Is in the judgment only, which yet stands;
For say a foolish thing but oft enough,
(And here's the secret of a hundred creeds,–
Men get opinions as boys learn to spell,
By re-iteration chiefly) the same thing
Shall pass at least for absolutely wise,
And not with fools exclusively. And so,
We say the French are light, as if we said
The cat mews, or the milch-cow gives us milk:
Say rather, cats are milked, and milch cows mew,
For what is lightness but inconsequence,
Vague fluctuation 'twixt effect and cause,
Compelled by neither? Is a bullet light,
That dashes from the gun-mouth, while the eye
Winks, and the heart beats one, to flatten itself
To a wafer on the white speck on a wall
A hundred paces off? Even so direct,
So sternly undivertible of aim,
Is this French people.
All idealists
Too absolute and earnest, with them all
The idea of a knife cuts real flesh;
And still, devouring the safe interval
Which Nature placed between the thought and act,
They threaten conflagration to the world
And rush with most unscrupulous logic on
Impossible practice. Set your orators
To blow upon them with loud windy mouths
Through watchword phrases, jest or sentiment,
Which drive our burley brutal English mobs
Like so much chaff, whichever way they blow,–
This light French people will not thus be driven.
They turn indeed; but then they turn upon
Some central pivot of their thought and choice,
And veer out by the force of holding fast.
–That's hard to understand, for Englishmen
Unused to abstract questions, and untrained
To trace the involutions, valve by valve,
In each orbed bulb-root of a general truth,
And mark what subtly fine integument
Divides opposed compartments. Freedom's self
Comes concrete to us, to be understood,
Fixed in a feudal form incarnately
To suit our ways of thought and reverence,
The special form, with us, being still the thing.
With us, I say, though I'm of Italy
My mother's birth and grave, by father's grave
And memory; let it be,–a poet's heart

[...] Read more

poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Lawyer’s First Tale: Primitiæ or Third Cousins

I

‘Dearest of boys, please come to-day,
Papa and mama have bid me say,
They hope you’ll dine with us at three;
They will be out till then, you see,
But you will start at once, you know,
And come as fast as you can go.
Next week they hope you’ll come and stay
Some time before you go away.
Dear boy, how pleasant it will be,
Ever your dearest Emily!’
Twelve years of age was I, and she
Fourteen, when thus she wrote to me,
A schoolboy, with an uncle spending
My holidays, then nearly ending.
My uncle lived the mountain o’er,
A rector, and a bachelor;
The vicarage was by the sea,
That was the home of Emily:
The windows to the front looked down
Across a single-streeted town,
Far as to where Worms-head was seen,
Dim with ten watery miles between;
The Carnedd mountains on the right
With stony masses filled the sight;
To left the open sea; the bay
In a blue plain before you lay.
A garden, full of fruit, extends,
Stone-walled, above the house, and ends
With a locked door, that by a porch
Admits to churchyard and to church;
Farm-buildings nearer on one side,
And glebe, and then the countrywide.
I and my cousin Emily
Were cousins in the third degree;
My mother near of kin was reckoned
To hers, who was my mother’s second:
My cousinship I held from her.
Such an amount of girls there were,
At first one really was perplexed:
’Twas Patty first, and Lydia next,
And Emily the third, and then,
Philippa, Phoebe, Mary Gwen.
Six were they, you perceive, in all;
And portraits fading on the wall,
Grandmothers, heroines of old,
And aunts of aunts, with scrolls that told
Their names and dates, were there to show
Why these had all been christened so.

[...] Read more

poem by Arthur Hugh Clough from Mari Magno or Tales on Board
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I Told Myself

I told myself
You do love me
Is it really true?
She asked me

I told myself
You care for me
Are you really sure?
She asked me

I told myself
You do miss me
As often as you?
She asked me

I told myself
You need me too
Are you guessing?
She asked me

I told myself
You never tell me
Why on Earth?
She asked me

I told myself
You hide a lot…
Is that friendship?
She asked me

I told myself
You think too much
Does he not feel?
She asked me

Tell me, my love
What shall I say?
To all those queries
That she asked me...

How should I answer?
What should I ponder?
Tell me the truth
For she still asks me...

You For Me
And Me For You
Is it the Future?
One last Question
She did ask me.

[...] Read more

poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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I Saw It Myself (Short Verse Drama)

Dramatis Personae: Adrian, his wife Ester, his sisters Rebecca and Johanna, his mother Elizabeth, the high priest Chiapas, the disciple Simon Peter, the disciple John, Mary Magdalene, worshipers, priests, two angels and Jesus Christ.

Act I

Scene I.- Adrian’s house in Jerusalem. Adrian has just returned home after a business journey in Galilee, in time to attend the Passover feast. He sits at the table with his wife Ester and his sisters, Rebecca and Johanna. It’s just before sunset on the Friday afternoon.

Adrian. (Somewhat puzzled) Strange things are happening,
some say demons dwell upon the earth,
others angelic beings, miracles take place
and all of this when they had put a man to death,
had crucified a criminal. Everybody knows
the cross is used for degenerates only!

Rebecca. (With a pleasant voice) Such harsh words used,
for a good, a great man brother?
They say that without charge
he healed the sick, brought back sight,
cured leprosy, even made some more food,
from a few fishes and loafs of bread…

Adrian. (Somewhat harsh) They say many things!
That he rode into Jerusalem
to be crowned as the new king,
was a rebel against the state,
even claimed to be
the very Son of God,
now that is blasphemy
if there is no truth to it!

Johanna. I met him once.
He’s not the man
that you make him, brother.
There was a strange tranquilly to Him.
Some would say a divine presence,
while He spoke of love that is selfless,
visited the sick, the poor
and even the destitute, even harlots.

Adrian. (Looks up) There you have it!
Harlots! Tax collecting thieves!
A man is know by his friends,
or so they say and probably
there is some truth to it.

Ester. Husband, do not be so quick to judge.
I have seen Him myself, have seen
Roman soldiers marching Him to the hill
to take His life, with a angry crowd
following and mocking Him.

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
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He asked me if I'd take a penny for my thoughts.

A penny for your thoughts he asked,
and I told him the things on my mind.
A penny for your thoughts he asked,
I had thought then I'd be paid in kind.

A penny for your thoughts he asked,
and the closest friends we came to be.
A penny for your thoughts he asked,
I thought then the one he cared for, was me.

A penny for your thoughts he asked,
now rich with my thoughts he was.
A penny for your thoughts he asked,
I thought his reason was more than 'just because'.

A penny for your thoughts he asked,
he's made me rich with a broken heart.
A penny for your thoughts he asked,
now my life has a broken start.

poem by Mandy Lee
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Everything is connected

Asked to describe life
I said: ' the peaceful moments
with the friends you meet.'

Asked to describe friends
I said: ' the people you love
and care for daily.'

Asked to describe love
I said: ' feelings of goodwill
you have until death.'

Asked to describe death
I said: ' The equaliser
joy becomes nothing.'

Asked to describe joy
I said: ' opposite of sad
the happy feelings.'

Asked to describe sad
I said: ' opposite of joy
feelings of great loss.'

Asked to describe loss
I said: ' it occurs in life
regardless of us.'

Asked to describe life
I said: ' the peaceful moments
with the friends you meet.'

Everything is connected.

poem by Krantol Northic
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Who is the Best..?

Once there was this Rishi
Living under a banyan tree
Meditating on Him, all his life
Alone, without worries or wife..

It was a sunny day, bit hazy
Rishi was relaxed and lazy
A mouse came running and fell at his feet
A cat came chasing to eat

The mouse prayed 'Gimme shelter or u sin'
The cat said 'Protecting my food is no less a thing'
Rishi had to decide one way or other
Rishi blessed the mouse to be his daughter

The daughter grew into a beautiful woman
Time came for Rishi to think of her man.
He asked the daughter for any criteria or test
She said she wanted only the Best

Best of a man is a Rishi, said the father
Not really so, said the daughter
When Rishi said, better than a Rishi is the only Sun
No, said the daughter, not the burning hot one!

Rishi asked the Sun, if he knows anyone better
The Sun said, try the Cloud, it hides my power
When Rishi told her of the Cloud's valor
No, said the daughter, I hate the dark color

Rishi asked the Cloud, who betters it
The Cloud said, surely the Wind, it blows me out
Rishi asked the daughter, if Wind is her choice
No, said the daughter, It just makes noise.

Rishi asked the Wind, for a better person
The Wind said, It is the immovable Mountain
Rishi asked the daughter, if Mountain passes her test
No, said the daughter, full of trough and crest

Rishi asked the Mountain for the best in the land
The Mountain said, It is the Mouse that crushes it to sand
Rishi asked the daughter, if Mouse is her groom
Yes, said the daughter, I love his eyes that zoom..

Rishi made his daughter back into a mouse
They married and lived in a hole as their house
The Best for a mouse is mouse, for Rishi a Rishi, for crook a crook
It depends on what you look out for; your outlook!

poem by TheBigThinkg Human
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With a Weakness of Mind and Physicality

Rising above criticism and self critique,
May be a little easier...
For someone accustomed,
To living a life that is public.
And not discreet.

Some habitually hide themselves,
Under layers of choice and voices selected.
And choose words heard,
That flatter as preferred.

It takes courage to step out in front.
To confront opposition and be blunt.
People who fear to have their feelings hurt,
Are usually those,
Who spread gossip with a thirst.

Rising above criticism and self critique,
May be a little easier...
For someone accustomed,
To living a life that is public.
And not discreet.

Some habitually hide themselves,
Under layers of choice and voices selected.
And choose words heard,
That flatter as preferred.
With a weakness of mind and physicality.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Book Fourteenth [conclusion]

In one of those excursions (may they ne'er
Fade from remembrance!) through the Northern tracts
Of Cambria ranging with a youthful friend,
I left Bethgelert's huts at couching-time,
And westward took my way, to see the sun
Rise, from the top of Snowdon. To the door
Of a rude cottage at the mountain's base
We came, and roused the shepherd who attends
The adventurous stranger's steps, a trusty guide;
Then, cheered by short refreshment, sallied forth.

It was a close, warm, breezeless summer night,
Wan, dull, and glaring, with a dripping fog
Low-hung and thick that covered all the sky;
But, undiscouraged, we began to climb
The mountain-side. The mist soon girt us round,
And, after ordinary travellers' talk
With our conductor, pensively we sank
Each into commerce with his private thoughts:
Thus did we breast the ascent, and by myself
Was nothing either seen or heard that checked
Those musings or diverted, save that once
The shepherd's lurcher, who, among the crags,
Had to his joy unearthed a hedgehog, teased
His coiled-up prey with barkings turbulent.
This small adventure, for even such it seemed
In that wild place and at the dead of night,
Being over and forgotten, on we wound
In silence as before. With forehead bent
Earthward, as if in opposition set
Against an enemy, I panted up
With eager pace, and no less eager thoughts.
Thus might we wear a midnight hour away,
Ascending at loose distance each from each,
And I, as chanced, the foremost of the band;
When at my feet the ground appeared to brighten,
And with a step or two seemed brighter still;
Nor was time given to ask or learn the cause,
For instantly a light upon the turf
Fell like a flash, and lo! as I looked up,
The Moon hung naked in a firmament
Of azure without cloud, and at my feet
Rested a silent sea of hoary mist.
A hundred hills their dusky backs upheaved
All over this still ocean; and beyond,
Far, far beyond, the solid vapours stretched,
In headlands, tongues, and promontory shapes,
Into the main Atlantic, that appeared
To dwindle, and give up his majesty,
Usurped upon far as the sight could reach.

[...] Read more

poem by William Wordsworth
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This And That

I ASKED FOR BREAD!
A STONE THEY GAVE ME!
I ASKED FOR WATER!
A CUP OF VENOM THEY GAVE ME!
I ASKED FOR MEAT!
LO! VEGETABLES THEY GAVE ME!
I ASKED FOR CLOTHES!
AND THEY GAVE ME RAGS!
I ASKED FOR WEALTH!
AND THEY GAVE ME POVERTY!
I ASKED FOR PEACE!
AND THEY GAVE ME TROUBLES!
I ASKED FOR LOVE!
AND THEY GAVE ME WICKEDNESS!
TEMPT NOT THIS LORD!
ASK ME NOT FOR HELP!
FOR I SHALL GIVE TO YOU AS YOU GAVE TO ME!
TEMPT ME NOT I SAY!
ASK ME NOT FOR THIS!
FOR I SHALL GIVE YOU THAT!

poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
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Be My Baby Tonight

(ed hill/rich fagan)
I know youve heard that worn out line
About love at first sight
Well I never knew those words were true
Till you walked in tonight
All it took was just one look
To knock me off my feet
Im not a man of many words
So Ill make this short and sweet
Could ya would ya aint ya gonna if I asked you
Would ya wanna be my baby tonight
Yeah Id take a chance slow dance make a little romance
Honey itll be alright
Girl you got me wishin we were huggin and a kissin and a holdin each other tight
So could ya would ya aint ya gonna if I asked you
Would ya wanna be my baby tonight
Im not tryin to come on like
Some rhinestone romeo
Im a lookin for a whole lot more
Than a one night rodeo
What can I do to prove to you
Im a layin it on the line
Ill even get down on my knees
Just to beg you one more time
Girl could ya would ya aint ya gonna if I asked you
Would ya wanna be my baby tonight
Yeah Id take a chance slow dance make a little romance
Honey itll be alright
Girl you got me wishin we were huggin and a kissin and a holdin each other tight
So could ya would ya aint ya gonna if I asked you
Would ya wanna be my baby tonight
Girl could ya would ya aint ya gonna if I asked you
Would ya wanna be my baby tonight
Yeah Id take a chance slow dance make a little romance
Honey itll be alright
Girl you got me wishin we were huggin and a kissin and a holdin each other tight
So could ya would ya aint ya gonna if I asked you
Would ya wanna be my baby tonight
Could ya would ya aint ya gonna if I asked you
Would ya wanna be my baby tonight

song performed by John Michael Montgomery
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I'd Lie For You

I'd never tell you one lie.
I'd never let you down.
I'd never leave i'd be the one who'd always be around.
Baby give me a chance.
I'd pull the sun down from the sky.
To light your darkest night.
I'd never let one drop of rain fall down into your life.
Put your heart in my hands.
Baby believe me, i could never do you wrong.
And i would never paint your world blue.
And if sometimes it seems i must lost my mind.
I might be crazy, but i'm crazy about you.
I'd lie for you and that's the truth.
Do anything you asked me to.
I'd even sell my soul for you.
I'd do it all for you.
If you'd just believe in me.
Just take a look in my eyes.
You'd see a love that's blind.
Just take a hold of my hand.
I'll take you to paradise.
Ain't a star that's too far.
Every wish will be a wish.
That i will make come true.
And if you want the moon.
I swear i'll bring it down to you.
Let me into your heart.
Believe me baby.
Got your name carved on my soul.
'cause your the only one that i'll give it too.
Go let'em say that i'm fool to act this way.
'cause if i'm crazy, i'm just crazy 'bout you.
I'd lie for you and that's the truth.
Do anything you asked me to.
I'd even sell my soul for you.
I'd do it all for you.
If you'd just believe in me.
I'd lie for you and that's the truth.
Do anything you asked me to.
I'd even sell my soul for you.
I'd do it all for you.
If you'd just believe in me.
I'd lie for you and that's the truth.
Move mountains if you want me to.
I'd walk across the fire for you.
I'd walk across the wild for you.
If you'd just believe in me.
And you will never see a day.
I'll ever break your heart.
You'll see the sky fall down.

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song performed by Meat Loaf
Added by Lucian Velea
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