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"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing." Edmond Burke
The wise old owl Sat in an oak. The more he saw, The less he spoke. The less he spoke, The more he heard. Why can't we be like That wise old bird?
UNDER the overhanging yews, The dark owls sit in solemn state, Like stranger gods; by twos and twos Their red eyes gleam. They meditate. Motionless thus they sit and dream Until that melancholy hour When, with the sun's last fading gleam, The nightly shades assume their power. From their still attitude the wise Will learn with terror to despise All tumult, movement, and unrest; For he who follows every shade, Carries the memory in his breast, Of each unhappy journey made.
Ill' stay meyou stay youthis why i'm freeand you'll be free toI wish you would seethe great ocean bluethen we will beme and youable to seefrom the same point of veiwOriganal poem by Coutterboy
My name is coutterboy you can call me coutterboy because my name is coutterboy it will always be coutterboyi hope you like me im coutterboyhi my name is coutterboyyou better call me by coutterboyor you'll be begging to coutterboy!
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