Jul. 5th, 2007

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

shadows tell us nothing neither does light
we aren't what we were but we still know it
the echoes come back out of deepest night
shadows tell us nothing neither does li;ght

as much as we can we proclaim we are right
and will punish the one who refuses to show it
shadows tell us nothing neither does light
we aren't what we were but we still know it

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

a little glow announces every hope
long hours are spent in futile thought
what's got is not what we had caught
each symbol might fail as a trope
each hero turn out just another dope
but we still had to do the things we ought
and not be worried about what we'd bought
our feet are still set up the weary slope
a light that does not warm and doesn't chill
enough to see that we are not yet lost
the comfort that we have is fully paid
we set ourselves to work by simple will
what doesn't matter is effort or cost
all that you have to do is make the grade

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

at some point we will run beyond the writ
into the vacant spaces where night rules
and to survive you need far more than wit

i know you're laughing as you easy sit
and thinking those of us who work are fools
at some point we will run beyond the writ

you think that none of us have got the grit
or that we simply cannot find the tools
and to survive you need far more than wit

your heart is empty and your mouth will spit
fresh venom at the ones whom you call mules
at some point we will run beyond the writ

unlike you we know that we've been hit
by those whose raging anguish never cools
and to survive you need far more than wit

the path before us seldom has been lit
but each of us has learned much in the schools
at some point we will run beyond the writ
and to survive you need far more than wit

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

this light cannot die
the summer's heat must wither
more than our mere hope
lest each of the new makers
discover the plainest truth

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

you should not question anything you're told
all of our warnings should be borne in heart
if you dare question you'll find your proper part
is to be punished for being too frank and bold
we've got your number and we've got you cold
we are the ones who made torture an art
and for your rights we'd never give a fart
within our prisons you'll grow sick and old
you have to understand that you don't count
you have no power and you have little sense
bow to your betters and learn your proper place
the value of your life's no great amount
we'll string you up and hang you on the fence
when our wise leader's shot you in the face

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
name your worst fear and it will not depart
it's never been enough to know what's there
the job we do cannot become an art
name your worst fear and it will not depart

you think that secrets are safe in your heart
nothing that's hidden can just disappear
name your worst fear and it will not depart
it's never been enough to know what's there

your job in life is more than just to care
about the needs that each of us must face
the things we most delight in turn to air
your job in life is more than just to care

we haven't learnt that there's no time to spare
if we are to give each their honest place
your job in life is more than just to care
the things we most delight in turn to air

there's not one thing left that you ought to dare
the ending's been implicit from the start we
leave the honest ones to pause and stare
there's not one thing left that you ought to dare

we've set the building stones decently square
and having done that we have played our part
there's not one thing left that you ought to dare
the ending's been implicit from the start

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

in time the green wall will turn bare
the branches will turn all light grey
things will not change at the noonday
all stripped of colour in the air
the branches will be thin and spare
we won't be cheered by the high day
and nothing helps to light the way
but now such thinking should be rare
the green i see is rich and thick
the air is full of sweetest sound
and gentle breezes trick the eye
i look out and see stone and brick
rising out of the hard red ground
and winter right now seems a lie

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

no sort of magic fills the evening air
wonder has abandoned all this space
nature could show no plainer a face

and yet the world and life seem fair
there's in each one a certain grace
no sort of magic fills the evening air

the world we have now seems quite bare
we move at slower than a walking pace
and none of us is in our proper place
no sort of magic fills the evening air

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