ATROCIOUS WIZARD

(Source: shotglassesandpeacesigns)

Amy Winehouse - “Back To Black”

“Love is not enough” by The Wealthy West 

“Invictus” by William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

The Animals - “House Of The Rising Sun” 

“The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. 

Anaïs Mitchell - “Before the Eyes of the Storytelling Girls” 

I could tell you stories like the government tells lies
Oh, but no one listens any more
In the rooms the women come and go
Talking on the mobile phones
And the television talks about the war

When I was a baby there was laughter in my house
And my daddy smoked domestic cigarettes
Thursday nights on the radio live in concert
Live from Cairo, mother of Egypt
Mama, mama
Be with me
With the music in your breast
In your glittering evening dress
And the white flag in your fist trembling

I could tell you stories like the past was dead and gone
But I know nothing changes in this world
Every day the muezzin calls
Sun comes up and Baghdad falls
Before the eyes of storytelling girls
She was just a poor man’s daughter
Going down into the sultan’s bed
He was desert, she was a water
And he remembered every word she said
She said and I say
Grandma, grandma
Be with me
In your tragic wedding gown
With your long hair hanging down
And the stories tumbling out
Tumbling

I could tell you stories like the government tells lies
Oh, but no one listens any more
In the rooms the women come and go
Talking on the mobile phones
And the television talks about the war
About the war
And the television talks about the war