They may flow down river beds with velocities approaching those of the rivers; where there are sharp irregularities, the lavas plunge over them in lavafalls.

the lost wing would still itch and the wine stay bitter in the glass—a mouthful of sin in an inchful of hell

what he designed to bestow on her funeral, he would rather dispose among the poor

And when I rolled with the punches I got knocked on the ground By all this bullshit going down