(no subject)
To dream the impossible dream,
To fight the unbeatable foe,
To bear with unbearable sorrow,
To run where the brave dare not go.
To right the unrightable wrong,
To love pure and chaste from afar,
To try when your arms are too weary,
To reach the unreachable star.
This is my quest - to follow that star,
No matter how hopeless, no matter how far,
To fight for the right without question or pause,
To be willing to march into hell for a heavenly cause.
And I know, if I’ll only be true to this glorious quest,
That my heart will lie peaceful and calm when I’m laid to my rest.
And the world will be better for this,
That one man, scorned and covered with scars,
Still strove with their last ounce of courage
To reach the unreachable star.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*
Oh My Dear Sweet Phosphorescent Don Quixote.... Come fight my windmills. Come call me Dulcinea.
Dulcinea, Dulcinea, I see heaven when I see thee, Dulcinea.
And thy name is like a prayer an angel whispers: Dulcinea!
See, It dosent work with Rebecca.
Rebecca, Rebecca, I see heaven when I see thee, Rebecca.
And they name is like a prayer an angel whispers: Rebecca!
See? Dosent work. Unless someone beautiful sings it to me.
Oh my poor dyeing dogmas...
To fight the unbeatable foe,
To bear with unbearable sorrow,
To run where the brave dare not go.
To right the unrightable wrong,
To love pure and chaste from afar,
To try when your arms are too weary,
To reach the unreachable star.
This is my quest - to follow that star,
No matter how hopeless, no matter how far,
To fight for the right without question or pause,
To be willing to march into hell for a heavenly cause.
And I know, if I’ll only be true to this glorious quest,
That my heart will lie peaceful and calm when I’m laid to my rest.
And the world will be better for this,
That one man, scorned and covered with scars,
Still strove with their last ounce of courage
To reach the unreachable star.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*
Oh My Dear Sweet Phosphorescent Don Quixote.... Come fight my windmills. Come call me Dulcinea.
Dulcinea, Dulcinea, I see heaven when I see thee, Dulcinea.
And thy name is like a prayer an angel whispers: Dulcinea!
See, It dosent work with Rebecca.
Rebecca, Rebecca, I see heaven when I see thee, Rebecca.
And they name is like a prayer an angel whispers: Rebecca!
See? Dosent work. Unless someone beautiful sings it to me.
Oh my poor dyeing dogmas...