In the stillness of satire and longing
I bathed in the tears of the heart
The comedy of laughter ever after
Hiding in the hopes of belonging

Don’t pity my ability to pain
Besides what thought is thought in vain
I watch the moon and count the days
In hopes I shall return again

No hope distilled or faint in that
I carry chance as greatest fact
That what I know is littlest still
No match for what the world is will

Oh greatest tragedy under the sun
That life can be confused and won
That people splurge in names of greed
And harvest tangled poison weeds

No flowers shine their sainted smells
No church bells ring their Sunday bells
No call to GODs alarming name
Can save what milk is spilt in rain

The foolish man in proudest pride
Waves high his right to ride the tide
And conquer life until his death
Eats his foolish waste of breath

No breathing there but tired spite
That we should claim we have the right
To live on earth and rule its lands
In the name of all the empty hands

No balance of what could be deemed
The death of love and what is dreamed
No mercy for those of conscious mind
To be awake and live a dream
Where they are blind