When this horse tires, we shall eat it for strength.
I hope my pony knows the way back home
When the rescue plane landed, I realized we had resorted to cannibalism too soon.
The Weary Traveller, who tried, sought
Name every road down which you go in a tongue that only you know
The lost art of walking
A man toiled on a burning road
West and away the wheels of darkness roll
Those of us who are thieves starve without a joker in our deck.
Normally we ride in silence
Bust out the biscuits, strike up the band
You go wait out in the truck
Will no one help the widow's son?
How it is that we stop asking questions
I never bend what I can break
For from dust we were created and to dust we shall return
The Camp of the Saints
That morning the sun rose in the west
Pound of flesh
The Burdens Of All
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