no matter that the cap's been set askew

there is no better story we could tell

about the way our honest vision grew

out of cold pain to fill the broken shell

healing the ill that you could not dispel

for all your efforts since there was no way

to break the walls or give the soul full play

we reach the bounds and have no better terms

than these old worn words no more than cliché

you might as well give up and feed the worms

 

we watch as grey has come to rule the blue

there's nothing here against which to rebel

just the old order just the normal due

course of the world which we cannot compel

to alter for our will there is no spell

that folk of magic could use to allay

these ordinary fears which still betray

just what we are old time alone confirms

that it can do its will and have its say

you might as well give up and feed the worms

 

after the rain we hope to see the new

growth that will rise the blossoms that will swell

once more in the bright garden to show true

that all things in the end shall come out well

so that on painful matters we won't dwell

and not look at the fossils under clay

the ancient dead in their solid array

since he who looks is also he who squirms

at thought of what lies just beyond decay

you might as well give up and feed the worms

 

prince your approach is all the gift we pray

knowing how well we count on what you say

beneath your wisdom are the least of germs

unable to resist the force of day

you might as well give up and feed the worms