Walk away, I walk the wire
And my fields are burning in the flames
Feel my way, blind in the mire
Struggling from your voice inside my head
But now everything's trying to drag me down
But I'll rip the sky from the ground
But tell me now, who's my saving one
Jesus or a gun
Stripped away my last desire
Nothing comes and nothing's sent away
Happiness I couldn't hire
Struggling from these thoughts inside my head
But now everything's trying to drag me down
But I'll rip the sky from the ground
But tell me now, who's my saving one
Jesus or a gun
All that's safer falls from my favor
When it's over who will cry for me
It's safe to say I don't desire
Everything you push inside my head
And I'll reject it until I'm dead
But now everything's trying to drag me down
But I'll rip the sky from the ground
But tell me now, who's my saving one
Jesus or a gun
Through the white crest of a breaker suddenly appears a dark figure, erect, a man-fish or a sea-god, on the very forward face of the crest where the top falls over and down, driving in toward shore, buried to his loins in smoking spray, caught up by the sea and flung landward, bodily, a quarter of a mile. It is a Kanaka on a surf-board. And I know that when I have finished these lines I shall be out in that riot of colour and pounding surf, trying to bit those breakers even as he, and failing as he never failed, but living life as the best of us may live it.---Jack London "The Cruise of the Snark"
"The great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude."--Ralph Waldo Emerson
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