To Heal Divisions, To Relieve The Oppress'd,

On These Sands And In The Clefts Of The Rocks, In The Depths Of The Sea, In The Creaking Of The Pines, You'll Spy Secret Footprints And Catch Far-off Voices From The Homecoming Celebration. This Land Still Longs For Odysseus.

Ah, Beer, My One Weakness. My Achille's Heel, If You Will.

Nobody Gets Into Heaven Without A Glowstick.

It Is Not Strength, But Art, Obtains The Prize, And To Be Swift Is Less Than To Be Wise.

And Rest At Last Where Souls Unbodied Dwell, In Ever-flowing Meads Of Asphodel.