The mere brute pleasure of reading - the sort of pleasure a cow must have in grazing.

Lord Chesterfield

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So Cold
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All those know is to photograph
People when they're on their knees
Say your prayers and wear your black
And be grateful it's not you and me
 
how am I supposed to live
Knowing that they're dying
How am I supposed to love
Knowing that they're crying
 
when did we get so cold
When did we get so cold
When did we grow so old
So old
 
Raise me up to where the wind blows
Out of the ghettos - oh
Raise me up to where the sun glows
Out of these shadows - oh
 
When did we get so cold
When did we get so cold
When did we grow so old
So old