| Darkness at the break of noon
|
| Shadows even the silver spoon
|
| The handmade blade, the child’s balloon
|
| Eclipses both the sun and moon
|
| To understand you know too soon
|
| There is no sense in trying.
|
| Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn
|
| Suicide remarks are torn
|
| From the fool’s gold mouthpiece
|
| The hollow horn plays wasted words
|
| Proves to warn
|
| That he not busy being born
|
| Is busy dying.
|
| Temptation’s page flies out the door
|
| You follow, find yourself at war
|
| Watch waterfalls of pity roar
|
| You feel to moan but unlike before
|
| You discover
|
| That you’d just be
|
| One more person crying.
|
| So don’t fear if you hear
|
| A foreign sound to your ear
|
| It’s alright, Ma, I’m only sighing.
|
| A question in your nerves is lit
|
| Yet you know there is no answer fit to satisfy
|
| Insure you not to quit
|
| To keep it in your mind and not fergit
|
| That it is not he or she or them or it
|
| That you belong to.
|
| Although the masters make the rules
|
| For the wise men and the fools
|
| I got nothing, Ma, to live up to.
|
| For them that must obey authority
|
| That they do not respect in any degree
|
| Who despise their jobs, their destinies
|
| Speak jealously of them that are free
|
| Cultivate their flowers to be
|
| Nothing more than something
|
| They invest in. |