I Have Always Been A Dark Writer.

Love Is Poison. A Sweet Poison, Yes, But It Will Kill You All The Same.

Anger Was Better Than Tears, Better Than Grief, Better Than Guilt.

My Featherbed Is Deep And Soft, And There I’ll Lay You Down, I’ll Dress You All In Yellow Silk And On Your Head A Crown. For You Shall Be My Lady Love, And I Shall Be Your Lord. I’ll Always Keep You Warm And Safe, And Guard You With My Sword. And How She Smiled And How She Laughed, The Maiden Of The Tree. She Spun Away And Said To Him, No Featherbed For Me. I’ll Wear A Gown Of Golden Leaves, And Bind My Hair With Grass, But You Can Be My Forest Love, And Me Your Forest Lass.

The Beauty Raised Her Eyes, The Only Part Of Her That Was Truly Beautiful.

She Should Be On A Hill Somewhere, Under A Fruit Tree, With The Sun And Clouds Above Her And The Rain To Wash Her Clean.