24 April 2008

all so distant now

this is the root of every sort of cry
you can't dig deeper for you have hit rock
your arm has felt the whole force of the shock
and each of us who knew how to apply
the proper treatment when things went awry
knew better than to laugh or fleer and mock
so many things to do when time must dock
the tails of those who're neither swift nor shy
this is the censorship of sober mind
a measure of the passion we must bring
to all the tasks left in the fading light
those who are watching will not be too kind
they are not here to listen to us sing
and know too well that soon it will be night

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