behind the cloud

we tell ourselves the most beguiling lies
while step by step we head towards the brink
the world's not real enough for our old eyes

no cavalry will ride down from the skies
and none of us remembers how to think
we tell ourselves the most beguiling lies

we blame all crime on saboteurs and spies
our minds cannot compass the missing link
the world's not real enough for our old eyes

we will not even praise the one who tries
to draw the message from the opaque ink
we tell ourselves the most beguiling lies

the one who answers is not one who buys
the silence and the knowing little wink
the world's not real enough for our old eyes

we cannot hearken to the one who cries
instead we bow our heads and sip our drink
we tell ourselves the most beguiling lies
the world's not real enough for our old eyes

through a plain lens

 behind the wall no hidden magics lurk
just other folk whose tasks are much the same
as those that drew you into the long game
there is no difference between wood and work
there are no monsters hiding in the murk
we make them up from our own guilt and shame
we do the crime and give others the blame
our hands are tight upon the secret dirk
a time will come when honesty and ruth
combine to force us to surrender tact
and face the consequence of each old lie
nothing can hurt as much as the plain truth
but there's no way to hide from simple fact
and fate's no tyrant underneath the sky

steered by the thunderbolt

 

a river flows and doesn't ever pause
the principle's as subtle as rich life
all forward motion's a result of strife

inanimate and animate the laws
set out the rhythm like a drum and fife
a river flows and doesn't ever pause

doesn't matter how truly just the cause
reasons for failure always will be rife
success may come down to the naked knife
a river flows and doesn't ever pause

the lessons of history

 

we think of justice as a simple matter
but then we lose all sense of proper cause
we see the diamond as nothing but flaws
and fear a single blow will make it shatter
yet fall quick prey to those who lie and flatter
giving them all our will without a pause
not giving thought to discipline or laws
then wonder why we're madder than a hatter
our thought does not move out on golden wings
nor are we of the human race the peak
but are compelled to do those things we must
we lack the reason of the fallen kings
cannot withstand the weapons of the weak
and in our turn will vanish into dust

so simple a gift

 

flowers in the median make me smile
their simple dance in the soft afternoon
seems like a special kindness or a boon

this memory i'll cherish a long while
for every winter arrives far too soon
flowers in the median make me smile

nature provides us all her grace and style
inside each heart a happy bird shall croon
and nectar pours out from a golden spoon
flowers in the median make me smile