A Loaf Of Bread, A Jug Of

The Revelations Of Devout And Learn'd Who Rose Before Us, And As Prophets Burn'd, Are All But Stories, Which, Awoke From Sleep They Told Their Comrades, And To Sleep Return'd.

Ah, Take The Cash, And Let The Credit Go, Nor Heed The Rumble Of A Distant Drum!

Yes, The First Morning Of Creation Wrote What The Last Dawn Of Reckoning Shall Read.

This Clay, So Strong Of Heart, Of Sense So Fine,surely Such Clay Is More Than Half Divine--'tis Only Fools Speak Evil Of The Clay,the Very Stars Are Made Of Clay Like Mine.

So I Be Written In The Book Of Love. I Do Not Care About That Book Above. Erase My Name, Or Write It As You Will. So I Be Written In The Book Of Love.