11 August 2007

a pot of message

let every voice that comes within our ken
sing praises to our sovereign lord and king
wiser by far than we mere mortal men
the music that he gives us we shall sing
knowing the tune from every heart will spring
sounds shall be nobly played by noble liar
and all our hopes be cast into hot fire

the king is not by thought or worry vexed
he leads us to a place we shan't escape
and all our wisdom will there be perplexed
we will not find it any sort of jape
being obliged to bend and bow and scrape
all of our joy shall with a wave be lost
and we will yet remain to count the cost

anger and fear will our confusion forge
this future turns out not to be so bright
the dragon's fated to defeat saint george
and every road will lead to deepest night
our eyes will seem to lose the power of sight
and though the captain make promise and boast
the ship will founder ere it reach the coast

lives have been lost and many more will go
before we see again the living sun
each will have melted like a late spring snow
power does not rise from every angry gun
but is a thing that must be subtly won
still nonsense goes ahead in fair disguise
and truth is overwhelmed by sweetest lies

let peasants die but we can ill afford
to see our leader pay the honest price
a worker's life's worth far less than a lord
and we can find another in a trice
a pile of bodies still could not suffice
to bring the victory promised in dream
for things are never simply what they seem

all we can do is hope and curse and work
changes that come may yet undo the pain
and when they do the wise would never shirk
but build the tower even in pouring rain
wall in the demons that still rage and strain
and swear that they would next be dead and cold
before they'd take the glitter for the gold

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