too faint the morning

 

a little touch of horror in the night
it passes and the sunlight remains weak
the past's not pleasant and the future's bleak

we wait for monsters at the edge of sight
we wait since only fools would go to seek
a little touch of horror in the night

nothing will ever sapience requite
the largest bird has blood upon its beak
and no one intervenes to save the meek
a little touch of horror in the night

four years

 

there is no mystery in being glad
your smile's enough to light the universe
and in your ocean my heart will immerse
with greater liberty than when a lad
the sun itself goes out when you are sad
i fear to speak lest i should make things worse
but all i want is your great joy to nurse
for without you the world seems more than mad
and so this day i have cause to recall
all wondrous things that happen in your sight
all the good that i ought to remember
the happiness that to my heart will call
the lovely steady glow of your eyes' light
bright fire awoken from the smallest ember

time of drought

 

what truths we have will not fade in the light
the thing that is remains what we are shown
a million stars fade with the end of night
and we return into the mapped and known
though not without a quiet sigh or groan
as we insert our feet into the daily flow
what is important isn't just the tone
we feel the absence of the rain and snow

the universe is under a vast blight
justice from many hearts too long has flown
and there is no calm moment for respite
the world we have is just a small wet stone
passing each day far into the unknown
the journey is not either fast or slow
but what we hear is not an honest moan
we feel the absence of the rain and snow

we know the days are never truly bright
but better not to face the dark alone
the chance of true retrieval is but slight
the risks of failure are not overblown
and yet we will not panic nor atone
but wait instead for the next morning glow
there's much to say upon the telephone
we feel the absence of the rain and snow

prince all the past is now but dust and bone
we cannot say the things that we all know
your seat is not the safest on the throne
we feel the absence of the rain and snow

still unsure

 

we see the products of the empty brain
each day as we are early on the road
and beauty is replaced by filthy stain
honours that were on better folk bestowed
are wasted here all that we see is owed
to those who could not get away in time
and passed the winter where it never snowed
we are not friends but just partners in crime

the hoardings would be better down the drain
our eyes are better without ugly load
but not a single fool who would refrain
from adding something to the episode
there's naught but rubbish where the river flowed
and here and there a smelly patch of slime
upon the hour the morning cock has crowed
we are not friends but just partners in crime

the hope of decency was too soon slain
and honesty has vanished from the code
we have to rush to catch the early train
since there's no safety in the calm abode
we seek the jewel in the horrid toad
since we are told that it's truly sublime
but that may be an arficact of mode
we are not friends but just partners in crime

prince from the safety of a common node
we wait for someone else the pump to prime
and for the wall of patience to erode
we are not friends but just partners in crime

between fire and flood

the raging fires are seen far out to sea
we rue the chance that will bring us to beach
but have not either wit or hope to flee
there's no power here the which to beseech
for any aid since there is no common speech
and storms are pressing us from on the main
we find the situation's just a peach
but we must tell the story straight and plain

a fiery death must come to house and tree
we wonder if we'll come within its reach
not wise the words that tell us leave things be
and those not in great trouble prate and preach
they aid us no more than a common leech
provides a respite from surgical pain
experience is the best way to teach
but we must tell the story straight and plain

we are not frightened of the things we see
but unseen dangers might our hopes impeach
and of some tremors we are never free
the subtler acids through hard stone may leach
and in the stoutest barrier make a breach
and such things trouble the impassioned brain
you load the cannon muzzle or the breech
but we must tell the story straight and plain

prince the bloodstains recede under the bleach
but we've been marked out for a greater pain
the wounded cannot speak out each to each
but we must tell the story straight and plain

with due preparation

 

what choices made by those who cannot trust
the common way or ordinary mode
we leave them be to do those things we must
in order to secure a safer road
for those without the wit to know the code
but ready still to answer when we call
we do not want the foolish to appal
but all things take their own time to unfold
we leave it to the madman to stand tall
and scorn the silver when we get the gold

the things we value all soon turn to dust
the safest place in fury may explode
and calmest fellows show a deep bloodlust
or show more courage than has been bestowed
on normal folk now when we find the load
is neither one that's easy nor that's small
only a fool would stop and shout and bawl
but learning duty doing what you're told
is proper caution just avoid the brawl
and scorn the silver when we get the gold

we don't want all our efforts to go bust
the wisest rooster's not the one that crowed
too early that one's warm beneath the crust
too slow and all our wisdom may corrode
in fuming acid or so we forebode
the horse must come forth steady out of stall
ready to do its job and that is all
that we should expect let the thing unfold
at a good pace between a run and crawl
and scorn the silver when we get the gold

prince as you sit in your proud judgment-hall
you might not worry what's beyond the wall
yet you'd be safer not to be as bold
as one who does not think he'd ever fall
better to concentrate on the long haul
and scorn the silver when we get the gold