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.
|
|
-----------------
|
The Porter - A Lament
|
| Disillusion |
