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Pastimes : Favorite Song Verse -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: SusieQ1065 who wrote (280)	2/8/2001 11:17:48 PM
From: HG	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 470

The River Of Dreams In the middle of the night I go walking in my sleep From the mountains of faith To a river so deep I must be looking for something Something sacred I lost But the river is wide And it's too hard to cross And even though I know the river is wide I walk down every evening and I stand on the shore And try to cross to the opposite side So I can finally find what I've been looking for In the middle of the night I go walking in my sleep Through the valley of fear To a river so deep And I've been searching for something Taken out of my soul Something I would never lose Something somebody stole I don't know why I go walking at night But now I'm tired and I don't want to walk anymore I hope it doesn't take the rest of my life Until I find what it is that I've been looking for In the middle of the night I go walking in my sleep Through the jungle of doubt To a river so deep I know I'm searching for something Something so undefined That it can only be seen Through the eyes of the blind In the middle of the night... I'm not sure aboutlife after this God knows I've never been a spiritual man Baptized by the fire, I wade into the river That runs to the promised land in the middl eof the night I go walking in my sleep Through the desert of truth To a river so deep We al lend in the ocean We all start in the stream We're all carried along By the river of dreams In the middle of the night... - Billy Joel

To: SusieQ1065 who wrote (280)	2/12/2001 7:50:40 PM
From: SusieQ1065	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 470

My God ~Jethro Tull People what have you done: locked Him in His golden cage. Made Him bend to your religion Him resurrected from the grave from the grave. He is the god of nothing if that's all that you can see. You are the god of everything He's inside you and me. So lean upon Him gently and don't call on Him to save you from your social graces and the sins you used to waive. The bloody Church of England in chains of history requests your earthly presence at the vicarage for tea. And the graven image you-know-who with His plastic crucifix he's got him fixed confuses me as to who and where and why as to how he gets his kicks. Confessing to the endless sin the endless whining sounds. You'll be praying till next Thursday to all the gods that you can count.