What holy cities are to nomadic tribes - a symbol of race and a bond of union - great books are to the wandering souls of men: they are the Meccas of the mind.
G.E. Woodberry
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Valentine's Day
Valentine told me who's to go
Feelings he treasured most of all
The teachers and the football stars
It's in his tiny face
It's in his scrawny hands
Valentine sold his soul
He's got something to say
It's Valentine's day
The rhythm of the crowd
Benny and Judy down
Valentine sees it all
He's got something to say
It's Valentine's day
Valentine told me how he feels
If all the world were under his heels
Or stumbling through the mall
It's in his tiny face
It's in his scrawny hands
Valentine knows it all
He's got something to say
It's Valentine's day
Valentine, Valentine
Valentine, Valentine
It's in his scrawny hands
It's in his icy heart
It's happening today
Valentine, Valentine
It's in his scrawny hands
It's in his icy heart
It's happening today
Valentine, Valentine