a poor player

a count of words does not reveal the fact
but we aren't ready for hard truth unveiled
the glass we look through's dull and cracked
a count of words does not reveal the fact

each message must be treated with full tact
against the wind but very few have sailed
a count of words does not reveal the fact
but we aren't ready for hard truth unveiled

in anger and despair the folk have railed
against the ones whose truth we can't dispute
we thought we had the entire process nailed
in anger and despair the folk have railed

the message that we hear has not been mailed
it's meaning and its form alike are cute
in anger and despair the folk have railed
against the ones whose truth we can't dispute

the truest human's no more than a brute
against our hopes few hands have yet been raised
the meaning it is clear we can't refute
the truest human's no more than a brute

we know that we as yet can't institute
the order under which all gods are praised
the truest human's no more than a brute
against our hopes few hands have yet been raised

another signal comes we're not yet crazed
by all the changes that weigh on each mind
still in the middle day each stands amazed
another signal comes we're not yet crazed

faced with a complex world we are not fazed
in no sense can you claim that we are blind
another signal comes we're not yet crazed
by all the changes that weigh on each mind

the cords that you see cannot simply bind
they link us each to each in a vast net
we eat the fruit from the core to the rind
the cords that you see cannot simply bind

the mistake's that we take the name mankind
the sort of thing that would make a devil fret
the cords that you see cannot simply bind
they link us each to each is a vast net

there's something to be said now for regret
each of our faults though makes us what we are
we know the greater purpose won't be set
there's something to be said now for regret

we won't reveal the answer no not yet
we'll make the journey each in our own car
there's something to be said now for regret
each of our faults though makes us what we are

the life we make we always seek to mar
a vision comes and we call it a lie
the journey that we take's a bit too far
the life we make we always seek to mar

we start with nothing and we end on par
we'll leave the green behind us by and by
the life we make we always seek to mar
a vision comes and we call it a lie

the truth we know is painful to the eye
an ugliness we bear each in our hearts
we want to live and fear that we must die
the truth we know is painful to the eye

we aren't still waiting for the best reply
the target has been pierced by many darts
the truth we know is painful to the eye
an ugliness we bear each in our hearts

each of us knows our secret sacred parts
in this long play and waits our turn to act
the stage is not the worst of all our arts
each of us knows our secret sacred parts

life's just a process of sale in the marts
in pleasing shape the soul is sealed and packed
each of us knows our secret sacred parts
in this long play and waits our turn to act