| I could bend the genius' course
|
| Could give wisdom to the blunt
|
| But I doubt they would be grateful
|
| One wish, a breeze to blow over
|
| the shelves and piles of souvenirs
|
| If only they would come to see
|
| Knowing ages pass before a tree
|
| Will spoil us with complexity
|
| They’d be worth a hall of memories
|
| But it’s fools I deal with day and night
|
| Fools that only come for short insight
|
| Though all of past hence waits
|
| In sanctity’s sweet embrace.
|
| Hear my song of reverence
|
| To the precious gifts that countenance
|
| To clamber high and dig so deep
|
| And seek what everyone should seek.
|
| It’s him again — the sullen —
|
| With eyes in envy’s mist and woe
|
| Out for refuge in a glimpse of bliss
|
| A short delusion
|
| A frenzy grasp at nothingness
|
| A frenzy grasp at nothingness:
|
| Echoes pound so loud in me
|
| Voices longing for tranquility
|
| A course is set for stormy seas
|
| Leading through the hall of memories
|
| But it’s fools I deal with day and night
|
| Fools that only come for short insight
|
| Though all of past hence waits
|
| In sanctity’s sweet embrace.
|
| I could bend the genius' course
|
| Could give wisdom to the blunt
|
| But I doubt they would be grateful. |