Make believing, we're together.
That I'm sheltered, by your heart.
But in the outside, I turn to water,
Like a teardrop in your palm.

Come all you friends and critics,
And listen to my song,
A word I will say to you,
It will not take me long,
The people talks about me,
They've nothing else to do
But to criticise their neighbors,
And they have me now in view.
Perhaps they talk for meanness,
And perhaps it is in jest,
If they leave out their freeness
It would suit me now the best,
To keep the good old maxim
I find it hard to do,
That is to do to others
As you wish them do to you.
Perhaps you've read the papers
Containing my interview;
I hope you kind good people
Will not believe it true.
Some Editors of the papers
They thought it would be wise
To write a column about me,
So they filled it up with lies.
The papers have ridiculed me
A year and a half or more.
Such slander as the interview
I never read before.
Some reporters and editors
Are versed in telling lies.
Others it seems are willing
To let industry rise.
The people of good judgment
Will read the papers through,
And not rely on its truth
Without a candid view.
My first attempt at literature
Is the "Sweet Singer" by name,
I wrote that book without a thought
Of the future, or of fame.
Dear Friends, I write for money,
With a kind heart and hand,
I wish to make no Enemies
Throughout my native land.
Kind friends, now I close my rhyme,
And lay my pen aside,
Between me and my critics
I leave you to decide.

I do believe, induced by potent circumstances
That thou art mine enemy.

The laws of God, the laws of man,
He may keep that will and can;
Not I; let god and man decree
Laws for themselves and not for me;
And if my ways are not as their's
Let them mind their own affairs.
Their deeds I judge and much condemn,
Yet when did I make laws for them?

One ship drives east and the other drives west
With the selfsame winds that blow.
'Tis the set of the sails and not the gales
Which tells the way to go.

Rain fell last night- quiet, gentle rain
That tapped against my widow pane
And called me back from troubled sleep,
To soothe a heart too numb to weep.
My loneliness was too deep and real,
And like a wound that would not heal,
It throbbed within me, and I knew
My arms were empty without you.
But as I listened to the sound
Of soft rain falling on the ground,
I heard your voice, tender and clear,
Call my name, and oh my dear,
I threw my window open wide,
To let the sweet rain rush inside.
It kissed my lips, my eyes, my hair,
And love, I knew that you were there.
Tears that my heart could not release
Fell down from Heaven, bringing peace.
Last night while gray clouds softly wept,
I held you in my arms and slept.

When they criticize and make fun of me,
Don't they see the tears in my smile?
Don't they realize there's just one of me,
And it has to last me a while?

You've got to make your own kind of music,
Sing your own special song.
Make your own kind of music,
Even if nobody else sings along.