Continual sneezing. Coughing. Ears about to explode from sinus pressure. A cloud of menthol-y scent follows wherever I go.
But I'm still not sick enough to lie pale and pathetic and be waited on hand and foot. *growl* The whole POINT of being sick, people, is to be waited on hand and foot!
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Roads go ever ever on,
Over rock and under tree,
By caves where never sun has shone
By streams that never find the sea;
Over snow by winter sown
And through the merry flowers of June,
Over grass and over stone,
And under mountains in the moon.
Roads go ever ever on
Under cloud and under star,
Yet that feet that wandering have gone
Turn at last to home afar.
Eyes that fire and sword have seen
And horror in the halls of stone
Look at last on meadows green
And trees and hills they long have known.
Over rock and under tree,
By caves where never sun has shone
By streams that never find the sea;
Over snow by winter sown
And through the merry flowers of June,
Over grass and over stone,
And under mountains in the moon.
Roads go ever ever on
Under cloud and under star,
Yet that feet that wandering have gone
Turn at last to home afar.
Eyes that fire and sword have seen
And horror in the halls of stone
Look at last on meadows green
And trees and hills they long have known.
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