Feelings, reactions, judgments— these are all fleeting. Love is not.
All my bones they are gone, gone, gone Take my bones, I don’t need none Cold, cold cupboard, lord, nothing to chew on! Suck all day on a cherry stone Dig a little hole, not three inches round Spit your pit in the hole in the ground Weep upon the spot for the starving of me! Till up grow a fine young cherry tree Well when the bough breaks, what’ll you make for me? A little willow...