A 'C' like my grandmother
used to make.
Elegant, old fashioned, refined.
In spidery script all her letters were writ,
Pages and pages of everyday news
of a land far away,
Yet somehow I loved
Even before making a memory of it.
Always signed 'Papa', though written by her,
Suddenly changing the voice in my head
To a jolly and round one,
Instead of her spritely, mischevious tone.
And now sorrow
because they're gone.
No more letters in spidery script
Full of everyday news of a land far away
Yet somehow I love...

Hate
a force from Hell or Heaven
warring continually against its enemy
Love;
a power of good or evil
unmatched, unequalled by human invention.
'I despise'
'I adore'
can both lie.
Perhaps the greatest glory lies with
Truth.

Hate
a force from Hell or Heaven
warring eternally with its enemy
Love;
unequalled by human invention,
a weapon of evil
or power of good.
'I adore'
'I abhor'
'I despise'
can all lie.
Perhaps the greatest glory lies with
Truth.

Hate
a force from Hell or Heaven
warring in vain against its enemy
Love;
unmatched by purest intention
demise of evil,
betrayer of good.
'I adore'
'I abhor'
'I desire'
'I despise'
can all lie.
Perhaps the greatest glory belongs to
Truth.