lacking true vision

we shape the words to make a better sense
but no one listens with an open heart
at being human they make vague pretence

to them what matters are the pounds and pence
for principles they would not give a fart
we shape the words to make a better sense

it is for trivia they're most intense
for all the scenes in which they won't take part
at being human they make vague pretence

about their future they seem the most dense
none gets to the finish if they don't start
we shape the words to make a better sense

this forced opacity is so immense
it can't be pierced by any lighted dart
at being human they make vague pretence

not one of them could safely journey hence
absent all science and lacking all art
we shape the words to make a better sense
at being human they make vague pretence

colour of time

we must not fear the angle of the light
pines reach upward straight as poles
the colour of the moment seems just right

it's a small world that fits into my sight
the elements know how to play their roles
we must not fear the angle of the light

there'll be no grief at coming fall of night
the little beasts will come out of their holes
the colour of the moment seems just right

whatever happens will not be a blight
the earth is not disturbed by active moles
we must not fear the angle of the light

our hope and target will be to requite
those who have not achieved their goals
the colour of the moment seems just right

our sort of answer will not now be bright
the longest road will harden gentle soles
we must not fear the angle of the light
the colour of the moment seems just right