fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
 you make your vision plain in every word

the pulse of nature moving in full heat

and yet we strain for sight of the right bird

 

nothing is clear all eyesight is quite blurred

the trip is over none will come to greet

you make your vision plain in every word

 

since on your tongue all truth has been conferred

but this hard fact we're made of bone and meat

and yet we strain for sight of the right bird

 

proclaiming season's changes have recurred

but time is motion every year more fleet

you make your vision plain in every word

 

including those that we have not yet heard

break out of silence still our peace is sweet

and yet we strain for sight of the right bird

 

to wake the morning and to cry absurd

notes of redemption for each empty street

you make your vision plain in every word

and yet we strain for sight of the right bird

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
 the thing's the same once you've told the story

putting the planet into normal mode

you've won power but never truly glory

 

you know it all is just transitory

each of us goes a short way on the road

the thing's the same once you've told the story

 

whether the ending's peaceful or gory

each must arrive at the one sole abode

you've won power but never truly glory

 

of no import whether whig or tory

for you the process is in no way slowed

the thing's the same once you've told the story

 

only message here's memento mori

the human network down to one last node

you've won power but never truly glory

 

answer now in words that are not hoary

explaining how you cracked the final code

the things the same once you've told the story

you've won power but never truly glory

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

we make the nation out of heart and mind

but give allegiance only when we're paid

which means this kingdom's truly of the blind

 

for all that we have been to truth inclined

its consequences make us all afraid

we make the nation out of heart and mind

 

yet cannot doubt that we’ve still been consigned

to the old trap we're in the same old trade

which means this kingdom's truly of the blind

 

and thus we know already what we'll find

once we unravel all the plots we'd laid

we make the nation out of heart and mind

 

expecting history will be more kind

granting some measure of good ease and aid

which means this kingdom's truly of the blind

 

since no such hope has ever been designed

instead we'll have to do with what we've made

we make the nation out of heart and mind

which means this kingdom's truly  of the blind

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

so now all clocks are showing the time's passed

for wearing chains and keeping dark heads bowed

since august morning has come round at last

 

although the sons of hate may stand aghast

we know our parents wept but were not cowed

so now all clocks are showing the time's passed

 

and we will leave till now we had held fast

but we can show the world that we are proud

since august morning has come round at last

 

so long a silence then the thunderblast

of our rejoicing we were good and loud

so now the clocks are showing the time's passed

 

for humble patient service we will cast

away all bondage tear apart the shroud

since august morning has come round at last

 

with our free hands we sanctify the past

as for the future we face it unbowed

so now all clocks are showing the time's passed

since august morning has come round at last

oratorio

Feb. 27th, 2009 11:58 am
fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

out of the primal light a sort of lie

to comfort hearts and eyes that can't see plain

that healing fire comes swiftly from the sky

 

no time to count the words that have gone by

or say the ocean will return as rain

out of the primal light a sort of lie

 

to take our minds away from the long sigh

of every child at the departing wain

that healing fire comes swiftly from the sky

 

is what we're told though not shown to the eye

it is no matter for our thought's disdain

out of the primal light a sort of lie

 

to ease the soul and make each spirit spy

with passing time and each losing campaign

that healing fire comes swiftly from the sky

 

to seal each bond and sanctify each tie

made in our despite and to ease our pain

out of the primal light a sort of lie

that healing fire comes swiftly from the sky

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
you want to catch the sun on its swift course
no matter what the meaning of the art
this is no grating horror or remorse

a moment more and we will have recourse
to means and methods that will seem more smart
you want to catch the sun on its swift course

news comes to us of shock and evil force
no one it seems has dared to play his part
there is no grating horror or remorse

we watch the numbers plunge upon the bourse
and nothing happens in the failing heart
you want to catch the sun on its swift course

the proper language and serene discourse
which you were promised vanished from the mart
there is no grating horror or remorse

you think to laugh at the departing horse
while loading all your goods upon this cart
you want to catch the sun on its swift cour
se
this is no grating horror or remorse
fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
those are the margins of the hated land
we do not go there and we fear the name
the people's speech we will not understand

so many words have been declined or banned
and honour is a term of evil fame
those are the margins of the hated land

the theme of anger is the one we've fanned
our hearts are warmed beside that darker flame
the people's speech we will not understand

we claim that petty feelings are most grand
and honest sympathy must lead to shame
those are the margins of the hated land

the spokesman is most eager and most bland
those who are visible must take the blame
the people's speech we will not understand

you have to listen to the sacred band
and watch the playing of the standard game
those are the margins of the hated land
the people's speech we will not understand
fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
there are no obstacles on the sacred way
your path was made as smooth as heart could hope
we ask that you remember on this day

life has a healthy share of plots to lay
but we are sure that you've the skill to cope
there are no obstacles on the sacred way

don't let the foolish visions make you stray
a little error and you're down the slope
we ask that you remember on this day

there is a price that each of us must pay
you learn this long before you have to mope
there are no obstacles on the sacred way

you will soon find we aren't allowed to stay
and that for some things we for long time grope
we ask that you remember on this day

there are so many things i have to say
time it turns out is not as long as rope
there are no obstacles on the sacred way
we ask that you remember on this day
fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
 
our proper kingdom's in another place
of roots and memories we're not bereft
and now too swift and hurried is the race

the world we have's no longer filled with grace
past is from present by a great sword cleft
our proper kingdom's in another place

we find we're going at too great a pace
our hearts are certain that the action's deft
and now too swift and hurried is the race

none goes before to bear the gilded mace
an object of great value and great heft
our proper kingdom's in another place

not one is certain what's the proper case
nor how to separate the warp from weft
and now too swift and hurried is the race

exhaustion is inscribed deep in each face
we've given all we can nothing is left
our proper kingdom's in another place
and now too swift and hurried is the race

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