“ SHOT, like an arrow, thro’ the air, My life is flying. Where, oh where? The sudden flights on which I go, And what the aim I may not know. Ah, when this troubled heart is dead, When the mark the shaft has sped ”
“ SHOT, like an arrow, thro’ the air, My life is flying. Where, oh where? The sudden flights on which I go, And what the aim I may not know. Ah, when this troubled heart is dead, When the mark the shaft has sped ”
