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Kneel At Your Feet

Put my trust in you when trustings hard
Wish that I could just let down my guard
Want to feel closer than I feel
I stop myself before it gets too real
Love can hurt so much it stings
Wish that I could just forget everything
Just as I start to fall apart
You pull me back into your arms
I start to breathe
As I kneel at your feet ( all I want to do)
I start to breathe
As I kneel at your feet
You cant see the other side of me
I keep it locked up safe, hide
Theres so much deep inside
Like a wild wind screaming through the trees
I start to breathe
As I kneel at your feet ( all I want to do)
I feel complete
As I kneel at your feet

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song performed by Belinda Carlisle
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Sir Peter Harpdon's End

In an English Castle in Poictou. Sir Peter Harpdon, a Gascon knight in the English service, and John Curzon, his lieutenant.

John Curzon

Of those three prisoners, that before you came
We took down at St. John's hard by the mill,
Two are good masons; we have tools enough,
And you have skill to set them working.

Sir Peter

So-
What are their names?

John Curzon

Why, Jacques Aquadent,
And Peter Plombiere, but-

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poem by William Morris
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The Abbot Of Innisfallen

The Abbot of Innisfallen
awoke ere dawn of day;
Under the dewy green leaves
went he forth to pray.
The lake around his island
lay smooth and dark and deep,
And wrapt in a misty stillness
the mountains were all asleep.
Low kneel'd the Abbot Cormac
when the dawn was dim and gray;
The prayers of his holy office
he faithfully 'gan say.
Low kneel'd the Abbot Cormac
while the dawn was waxing red;
And for his sins' forgiveness
a solemn prayer he said:
Low kneel'd that holy Abbot
while the dawn was waxing clear;
And he pray'd with loving-kindness
for his convent-brethren dear.

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poem by William Allingham
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The Golden Legend: IV. The Road To Hirschau

PRINCE HENRY _and_ ELSIE, _with their attendants, on
horseback._

_Elsie._ Onward and onward the highway runs
to the distant city, impatiently bearing
Tidings of human joy and disaster, of love and of
hate, of doing and daring!

_Prince Henry._ This life of ours is a wild aeolian
harp of many a joyous strain,
But under them all there runs a loud perpetual wail,
as of souls in pain.

_Elsie._ Faith alone can interpret life, and the heart
that aches and bleeds with the stigma
Of pain, alone bears the likeness of Christ, and can
comprehend its dark enigma.

_Prince Henry._ Man is selfish, and seeketh pleasure
with little care of what may betide;

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poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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The Door Of Humility

ENGLAND
We lead the blind by voice and hand,
And not by light they cannot see;
We are not framed to understand
The How and Why of such as He;

But natured only to rejoice
At every sound or sign of hope,
And, guided by the still small voice,
In patience through the darkness grope;

Until our finer sense expands,
And we exchange for holier sight
The earthly help of voice and hands,
And in His light behold the Light.

I

Let there be Light! The self-same Power
That out of formless dark and void

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poem by Alfred Austin
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Kneel Before This Fictional Power

Kneel before this fictional power,
Bow to those whom stand above,
the ones whom hover over us thinking were mere pigs wallowing in filth,
While you eat as a king, remeber One day you shall be like us...
Eat your fortunes for now, They soon shall be taken, and passed around,
passing all you were, or passing around all you thought yourselves to be.

Kneel before this fictional power,
We strive for nothing you have,
Because what you have is a fiction,
Disgust filled you are, to rotten from outside, to core,
Your decay, doesn't reach us though,
It stays above poisoning all of you.

Kneel Before this fictional power
Rest upon this crimson shoulder,
Brothers and sisters remeber this day,
We begin to rise from the opressions opressed upon us,
We lift ourselves up, we gift upon the world a new day,
Love whom you love, hate whom you hate,

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poem by Crimson Love
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The Gray Brother

The Pope he was saying the high, high mass,
All on Saint Peter's day,
With the power, to him given, by the saints of heaven,
To wash men's sins away.

The Pope he was saying the blessed mass,
And the people kneel'd around,
And from each man's soul his sins did pass,
As he kiss'd the holy ground.

And all, among the crowded throng,
Was still, both limb and tongue,
While, through vaulted roof and aisles aloof,
The holy accents rung.

At the holiest word he quiver'd for fear,
And falter'd in the sound-
And, when he would the chalice rear,
He dropp'd it to the ground.

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poem by Sir Walter Scott
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One Perfect Lie

One. One perfect lie.
Was it told too soon?
And one, one perfect life
Turned to stone.
Cold mercy.
I kneel down by your grave
I kneel down torn and guilty
Did I let you down,
Say goodbye too soon?
And did you understand
My mistake?
Forgive me.
I kneel down by your side
I kneel down scared and helpless
One perfect lie
Wrapped in kindness and tears
I wish I believed in your Heaven
One perfect life
Led by blind faith and trust
If God has a heart He will find you

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song performed by Gary Numan
Added by Lucian Velea
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Gimme

I know all your desires
Your heart is so full of pain
Is there something I can provide
When you feel like life's passed you by

I'm on your side
Gimme this gimme that
Gimme this gimme that
Gimme this gimme that
Gimme this gimme that
Gimme this gimme that
Gimme this gimme that
Gimme this gimme that
Gimme this gimme that

Please don't ask me my name
Does it matter I'm just here for you
Trust me just let yourself go
And that's all you need to know

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song performed by Alice Cooper from Brutal Planet
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The Lord of the Isles: Canto VI.

I.
O who, that shared them, ever shall forget
The emotions of the spirit-rousing time,
When breathless in the mart the couriers met,
Early and late, at evening and at prime;
When the loud cannon and the merry chime
Hail'd news on news, as field on field was won,
When Hope, long doubtful, soar'd at length sublime,
And our glad eyes, awake as day begun,
Watch'd Joy's broad banner rise, to meet the rising sun!
O these were hours, when thrilling joy repaid
A long, long course of darkness, doubts, and fears!
The heart-sick faintness of the hope delay'd,
The waste, the woe, the bloodshed, and the tears,
That track'd with terror twenty rolling years,
All was forgot in that blithe jubilee!
Her downcast eye even pale Affliction rears,
To sigh a thankful prayer, amid the glee,
That hail'd the Despot's fall, and peace and liberty!

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poem by Sir Walter Scott
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