There's the faith of one in dismal hope
A tattered cloak and worn out shoes
All through the scorning of the misanthrope  
And tearful laughter of a blues

The steps I follow blindly run
And paced beyond their own capacity
Beyond all faith there's more to come
The blinded dreams but cannot see

Hunger, satisfied, will crave for more
Abundance abounds not within prosperity
Prosperity grew her greed and fed on war
The war grew out of all prolixity

And yet we danced our nights away
In every stream of grace we drowned
The time that buries yet another day
Will ressurect the corpses that it found