no evidence the world is bent in shape
a bluish globe with wooly white of cloud
the mountains form a contrast sharp and proud
against the sea we note the golden cape
while in the sky dark birds seem to escape
the planetary force while winds are loud
above the foam and yet we are uncowed
though eyes are open and all mouths agape
there is a reason we have reached this place
and taken stock at the appropriate time
for our authority to be compelled
into new channels and a different space
with better thought and clearer paradigm
now that the party’s over and trial’s held

no matter what we say we do not feel
the pain of others right inside each heart
instead we wait the turning of the wheel

for one more challenge for the last appeal
which was presaged right at the very start
no matter what we say we do not feel

our hopes and urges have been brought to heel
and the last hero laid upon a cart
instead we wait the turning of the wheel

to see the message and to take our meal
in comfort all who come here will depart
no matter what we say we do not feel

we will start forward and then we will reel
back down in sign that we have lacked the art
instead we wait the turning of the wheel

for what is good the last hard spring of steel
yet still the while some fool will strain to ****
no matter what we say we do not feel
instead we wait the turning of the wheel

where no man argues and no woman fights
for good or evil we have reached an end
of human battles and the stars portend
no better indications as the nights
close in we note their distant blinking lights
as symbols we might faintly comprehend
when we are whole but what the worlds intend
is not a matter that we have to rights
the argument of workers in the day
or farmers when the wind upsets the trees
is much the same as when we all were young
to bring about the work without delay
ignore the rain and not yield to the breeze
since a strong back outdoes a silver tongue

where in the sunlight all the dirt's dispelled
we take our leave then some will go to sleep
their blankets piled upon them in a heap
while in the forest all the spirits gelled
anticipating that when we excelled
at sport and art the answer would be deep
but nothing holds there's no place here to keep
our kindnesses the earth itself rebelled
none can permit the law to be denied
by those who are so bound to a far higher
that their hard hands are in the moment lit
by the illuminations of their pride
the incandescence of a greater fire
than can be understood by human wit

we hit the wall and then the world goes down
into the dark and nothing good returns
for all we’ve done what once was gold is brown

as winter comes like satan into town
all minds are numb just as the river churns
we hit the wall and then the world goes down

a sad destruction but no one will frown
believing that we get what the thief earns
for all we’ve done what once was gold is brown

now skies are darker than a priestly gown
for what one makes the other overturns
we hit the wall and then the world goes down

so no one stands for hope or for renown
but gets instead just what the ******* earns
for all we’ve done what once was gold is brown

this is the truth where hero becomes clown
you have to flee before the city burns
we hit the wall and then the world goes down
for all we’ve done what once was gold is brown

here on the boundary of truth and lie
where ordinary magics have their rule
underneath heaven permanently cool
no one escapes nor is allowed to cry
against the judgment of the steely sky
since every human is at last a fool
while failure is the final mark at school
the arrow that will find each weeping eye
all that we know amounts to waste of air
on these strange days when we desire to feel
the urgent courage of our better days
but what we get is new return of care
another revolution of the wheel
and nothing better coming through the haze

our hearts with humour and with pain are crammed
the world defies our choices and our rage
in the republic of the wholly ******

we spoke and then our thoughts were truly slammed
by those who said that with keen words on page
our hearts with humour and with pain are crammed

the metre's right and the line's not enjambed
yet all we get is a poor poet's wage
in the republic of the wholly ******

since for the moment the signal's not jammed
so that the the enemy cannot engage
our hearts with humour and with pain are crammed

until they burst and our dead corpses rammed
into the the dullest moments of the age
in the republic of the wholly dammed

by those who thought that the most decent shammed
their honest words and strutted on a stage
our hearts with humour and with pain are crammed
in the republic of the wholly dammed