promotion

Sep. 20th, 2007 01:54 pm
fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
allow the visit and you will be seen
as uncertain of your own thinking mind
the whole of life begins now to unwind
you play the pawn and it becomes the queen

a rule of life is not what it had been
you do your job and then you go to bed
you've learned to quit when you are just ahead
you play the pawn and it becomes the queen

a sort of lethargy comes over the scene
not once have you had any direct thought
of what it is you do and what you ought
you play the pawn and it becomes the queen

for other actions you may not be keen
you've done your best and done the very most
while others faltered you stuck to your post
you play the pawn and it becomes the queen

don't give an indication how you lean
the rules are clear about what you may show
others have gone where you now long to go
you play the pawn and it becomes the queen
fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
some say that waiting does not kill
others that death's a faulty meme
they do not pay the butcher's bill
nor see harsh ending of sweet dream
theirs is the overpowering will
and natural right to the sunbeam
they just command that we be still
while they unhurried make their scheme
fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

at no time would we open our old eyes
to see the truth with its vanguard of lies
overcoming ones that we truly despise
and yet becoming brighter we surmise
because we still can feel shock and surprise
we yet retain the vestiges of ties
to one who smiles also to one who cries
we have good friends and we have staunch allies

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
every morning brings the same
actors rushing to the game
lives are measured by a line
losers drown themselves in wine
echoes of the fatal fall
rumblings of the bowling ball
green the light on every side
red the colour that we hide
marbling of the easy meat
pain the message of these feet
little more that we can take
of the messes that you make
humming swiftly on the wire
news comes of the spreading fire
failure speaks louder than truth
not allowed regret or ruth
each lie makes us hate some more
hate the worker hate the poor
hate the ones who won't obey
hate the night and hate the day
hate the ones who will not sing
praises to the mighty king
always love the noble whip
keep a tight and silent lip
do all this and we will thrive
truth and justice can't survive

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
what the time of torture gave us we cannot this day deny
of the torments we have suffered which had made us wail and cry
bearing all the weight of nations weighted down by chains and rope
now we praise the youthful hero who has given back our hope

at the time the tale was started we had no thought of the end
lives were lost and children grew up lacking lover lacking friend
facing all the hells we passed through we could have turned misanthrope
now we praise the youthful hero who has given back our hope

each of us has understanding we could have been easy slain
had we challenged the harsh power that was causing all our pain
not a matter to astonish if we turned to drink and dope
now we praise the youthful hero who has given back our hope

let us now with joy remember how the tyrants met their fall
cheer the ones who joined the rising cheer the ones who heard the call
hail the ones who after fighting marched in triumph down the slope
now we praise the youthful hero who has given back our hope

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
the name that's spoken isn't one that's known
the speaker seems ashamed that it's his own
life doesn't allow much chance to have our say
but has still its pleasures each fine in its way

the margin for success has not been large
only a fool thinks to win by a straight charge
for slow and clever will usually win the day
but has still its pleasures each fine in its way

what we were asking for we won't soon obtain
but though we hate it we'll all soak in the rain
the life we've got gives not much chance to play
but has still its pleasures each fine in its way

naming the criminal will have but little weight
if he's already out and through the prison gate
the standard gives us but little chance to stray
but has still its pleasures each fine in its way

nowhere but here can we expect much change
opportunities seem always far beyond our range
our fortune doesn't get much time in the sun's ray
but has still its pleasures each fine in its way

we've no need ever to sweat and swink and strain
we won't get paid for injury nor for suffering and pain
the experience puts a cloud over the brightest day
but has still its pleasures each fine in its way

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fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
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