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:: Idlewild & Edwin Morgan - The Weight of Years ::
Girls, be good to these spirits of music and poetry and lift the lyre so clear and sweet They knead with you
And, as for me, this body which is now so arthritic I cannot play can hardly even hold the instrument
And, oh, the soul grows heavy with the body And, oh, the soul grows heavy without the body
Some gloomy poems came from these thoughts And useless we are all born to lose life like we lose our youth
So I stepped in quite clearly from my hiding place to then suspect that she would grow old and gray and he despaired in his mortal way and said
Oh, the soul grows heavy with the body And, oh, the soul grows heavy without the body
:: Idlewild & Edwin Morgan - The Weight of Years ::
Girls, be good to these spirits of music and poetry and lift the lyre so clear and sweet They knead with you
And, as for me, this body which is now so arthritic I cannot play can hardly even hold the instrument
And, oh, the soul grows heavy with the body And, oh, the soul grows heavy without the body
Some gloomy poems came from these thoughts And useless we are all born to lose life like we lose our youth
And, oh, the soul grows heavy with the body And, oh, the soul grows heavy without the body
So I stepped in quite clearly from my hiding place to then suspect that she would grow old and gray and he despaired in his mortal way and said
Oh, the soul grows heavy with the body And, oh, the soul grows heavy without the body
And, oh, the soul grows heavy with the body And, oh, the soul grows heavy without the body