drip after drip

 life as a whole is swift instead of slow
there's never time to measure all the things
that happen to us there are many strings
that tie us up and will not let us go
a million facts that each one has to know
and we are summoned each time a bell rings
we could go faster i guess had we wings
there's never any reason things are so
what we discover is no simple fact
the universe is colder than a rock
beneath the ice we wait for a last shove
far beyond any sign of kindness or tact
there's room to challenge every horrid shock
but never enough time to show our love

far from the lonely mountain

 

a second's thought would give not one soul pause
but we are forced to halt and listen long
to what would be forbidden by most laws

we long shall wait in vain for springtime's thaws
and wonder just how all things went so wrong
a second's thought would not give one soul pause

beyond the mountains dragons with huge maws
wait to entice us in their scaly throng
to what would be forbidden by most laws

we see these creatures with their giant claws
ready to consume us both weak and strong
a second's thought would not give one soul pause

we have not understood their hunger's cause
nor how the sweetest honours might belong
to what would be forbidden by most laws

no word will counteract the final clause
we hear the voices in a sort of song
a second's thought would not give one soul pause
to what would be forbidden by most laws

a sudden silence

 

somewhere we know there's room for hope and change
but every morning we've got cause to doubt
that in the face of danger we'll be stout

the winds and clouds our senses all derange
what can the future be but hellish rout
somewhere we know there's room for hope and change

the world we have each day becomes more strange
what was a whisper turns into a shout
the inner certainty is soon left out
somewhere we know there's room for hope and change

kicked the empty pail

 we have no choice but to accept hard fate
wishes and pains into one bucket fall
what we destroy you cannot now create
the animal has long since fled its stall
and other creatures underfoot may crawl
but you have no occasion in the night
to hope that any worker could requite
the efforts that you make in hasty song
the words are normal and the thought is trite
the prize will never go the the most strong

we read the message and we wiped the slate
we gave you our best effort gave our all
and our reward is for you to delate
to make that one unnecessary call
and hear your laughter as we loudly bawl
our only option now is rapid flight
out into darkness far from any light
after a struggle that lasted too long
we cannot yet your villainy requite
the prize will never go to the most strong

the dried-up river will be in full spate
our tiny promise will not seem so small
take little comfort in your pomp and state
you have no shelter against shower or squall
the wisest have already fled your hall
your priest is drunk and has forgot the rite
the greatest hope you have is truly slight
and we can hear the beating of the gong
your vaunted plenty has become a blight
the prize will never go to the most strong

prince we forsake you in your dreadful plight
unhelped by servant or by satellite
you must admit your actions all were wrong
you'll learn the meaning of the lash's bite
and have no pleasure left in force and might
the prize will never go to the most strong

last season's fruit

 not one thing left that anyone could gain
and this is not a war you'd hope to win
there's nothing here that's ever clear or plain
we threw the honest options in the bin
and for the rest we let the coin spin
exchanging what had been the happy site
of youthful hope for a handful of tin
and sounds of gunfire in the middle night

there's never hope of decent mist or rain
instead we huddle close and drink our gin
while waiting for true decency in vain
the dirt has found its way beneath the skin
and all our honour turned into chagrin
we know that we must lose in every fight
we listen for the soulful violin
and sounds of gunfire in the middle night

what's left of us would make a tiny stain
a message poked out by a sharpish pin
by one who long ago was lost or slain
too cold outside and yet more cold within
it's hard enought either to smirk or grin
when waiting for the other ones to bite
too shrill the voices of our friends and kin
and sounds of gunfire in the middle night

prince we grow tired of your eternal grin
you've led us far from the sustaining light
we hear our chances growing yet more thin
and sounds of gunfire in the middle night

no one knew how old it was

 

we take the oath beneath the spreading tree
there is no choice we must go to the knife
and bring to waking dreams of liberty

the day shall come that we had hoped to see
the other side of that long painful strife
we take the oath beneath the spreading tree

we must stand up and no more bend the knee
marching with haste to tune of drum and fife
and bring to waking dreams of liberty

we will stand fast and make the others flee
our ranks with anger and with hope are rife
we take the oath beneath the spreading tree

what we desire we shall make come to be
for brother sister for husband and wife
and bring to waking dreams of liberty

we will succeed we will set ourselves free
at last to find out all that's best in life
we take the oath beneath the spreading tree
and bring to waking dreams of liberty

light imaginary

 a single moment in a dream
we watch and do not feel the sign
a message coming down the line
we wait to see the early beam

there's nothing to it but the gleam
a terror hidden in the mine
the bill is paid just like the fine
a single moment in a dream

we wonder if the cause is wine
no greater magic could we deem
enclosed in a repeating meme
no answer comes that is divine

the only green is fir and pine
while ore's still found within the seam
you will not pay to get the cream
we watch and do not feel the sign

bumbling achievement

we reach our goals by rougher means than guess
all gardens are alike when fruit turn ripe
what's best achieved produces the most stress

we blame all faults on surfeit and excess
and take no challenge from a guttersnipe
we reach our goals by rougher means than guess

there is no hope nor yet a hopelessness
the claims of either are just so much tripe
what's best achieved produces the most stress

don't you be waiting for the fine redress
promised by people of a certain type
we reach our goals by rougher means than guess

the choicest stuff goes to the wrong address
and to the ones of not so good a stripe
what's best achieved produces the most stress

we find out what has happened from the press
long after we thought matters had been ripe
we reach our goals by rougher means than guess
what's best achieved produces the most stress