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Collections - Anthony Phillips
All the world's a stage
A friend of mine
Sometimes said
And though he tried to show the way
They only care about his name
Love is for the fool
A blind old man he always said
But of its' joys he sometimes spoke
And then it seemed he could see
Life is for the strong
A travelling monk he told me once
But of the weak he never spoke
Though their cries beat on his ears
I stood my gun in hand
The swallow flew to meet his love
And as they touched I shot him down
But now it's me that can't fly
