Words on bamboo slips
Master Kong and Master Mo
with care indited;
then we read their thoughts
on cheap pulp paper in books
they did not dream of.
Today we watch the
pixels of their old wisdom
crossing the thin screen
and we think ourselves
wise and sophisticated
unlike those beggars.
Are we the better
for all of this mass knowledge
or just deluded?
not one who sees but waits the hour
will reach the mountain in due time
the beasts that in the noontime cower
not one who sees but waits the hour
we long for the refreshing shower
to cool us after the long climb
not one who sees but waits the hour
will reach the mountain in due time
we make the choice and spin the wheel
our hearts rejoice when we see light
the journey takes all day and night
we never know just how to feel
when told we've done the thing just right
we make the choice and spin the wheel
there's something that will fix the deal
and let us know when all's in flight
how soon we'll be out of the plight
we make the choice and spin the wheel
we don't know all that is the case
the world's too much to understand
the things that are not quick to hand
bring hot blood shining in the face
we cannot choose the time or place
but can we know dance to the band
the music here can't just be bland
we'll occupy a complex space
name something and we see it flee
too much of life can't be pinned down
but we take hope from simple things
the best we have you may not see
we none of us can sport a crown
but still we wish that we had wings
in light so sharp it hurts the eyes
we learn new meanings for old pain
to walk outside's a constant strain
so hot we watch the fainting flies
with sympathy that goes against the grain
in light so sharp it hurts the eyes
on such a day the tall tree dies
we know we'll see such times again
but while we suffer hope for rain
in light so sharp it hurts the eyes
we name the answer when we know the fact
but cannot bear the truth of all we're told
there's always reason for display of tact
we name the answer when we know the fact
we think before we can decide to act
and get our vengeance like our water cold
we name the answer when we know the fact
but cannot bear the truth of all we're told
you never ask just how the thing is done
there's never reason to get out of line
what we get up to always counts as fun
you never ask just how the thing is done
we ask what happens when in open sun
we see as shoddy what we thought was fine
you never ask just how the thing is done
there's never reason to get out of line
the real complexity of life is what we hate
things should be simple all in black and white
all of our problems can be blamed on fate
the sort of thing that we call excess freight
will seem once we have started to be slight
the real complexity of life is what we hate
we clean the bar and write up on the slate
the total cost of drinking every night
all of our problems can be blamed on fate
our answers always seem to come too late
we have no chance to show off and be bright
the real complexity of life is what we hate
the pressure and the strain will not abate
we have to take the vessel at the height
all of our problems can be blamed on fate
the power we have is not reason of state
the only thing that matters is our might
the real complexity of life is what we hate
all of our problems can be blamed on fate
We looked forward to afternoon tea
but our joy it was never to be,
since the gods, it was plain,
refused to send rain
in spite of our most profound plea.
The logic of this may seem odd
but before you get our your rod
you have to remember
that the least little ember
would have incinerated the sod.
