murmur name upon name

what we envision is not absolute
the truth we seek is of a narrow kind
our great desire we cannot institute
what we envision is not absolute

hearken to violin and to the flute
music describes just what we cannot find
what we envision is not absolute
the truth we seek is of a narrow kind

the oldest practice we'd do best to shun
call it tradition and we've been enslaved
you'd never take our work to be plain fun
the oldest practice we'd do best to shun

when it is night others can see our sun
even the ones that we would call depraved
the oldest practice we'd do best to shun
call it tradition and we've been enslaved

regret's a fine thing when it is not ours
we should be saddened by another's pain
each of us retreats to our own towers
regret's a fine thing when it is not ours

day is long gone but we've seen no showers
our souls like grass are longing for the rain
regret's a fine thing when it is not ours
we should be saddened by another's pain