a finished project

so many words and then not one word more
you send them out and wait to hear their fate
not one of us who truly knows the score

they're not the same as the ones gone before
there's greater difference than the time and date
so many words and then not one word more

the mind has so much in its ordered store
for those who hurry and for those who wait
not one of us who truly knows the score

you do your best to entertain not bore
cleaning old messages from the worn slate
so many words and then not one word more

who could remember what each hero wore
to meet the host that gathered at the gate
not one of us who truly knows the score

we let the thoughts in giant gushes pour
while all of us hold forth upon the state
so many words and then not one word more
not one of us who truly knows the score