Collections lyrics

All the World`s a stage,`
A friend of mine, he 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