compass uncertain

there on the edge no more than one slight twist

before the risk of falling proves that when

we speak of uncertainty the last amen

comes at a point when all that must exist

in proper order that is not dismissed

is held in silence or kept in the pen

we turn and see that all is wrong again

and then too late each of us shakes a fist

in all the silence in  the heavy blue

of endless ocean where there is no map

to guide us safely back unto the known

you did not want to share a thing you knew

so that we could escape from the sharp trap

yet now there's nothing left we could bemoan

almost witchcraft

the body is too solid and must fade

into vague emptiness and be forgot

this is the sum and substance of our trade

 

a fatal message is not long delayed

although each one must note the deadly blot

the body is too solid and must fade

 

before the trumpet calls to church parade

and listen to the padre's fading rot

this is the sum and substance of our trade

 

since in these shallow streams all folk can wade

crossing to stranger pastures at a trot

the body is too solid and must fade

 

though no wise man from his set course was swayed

we know that something was bound in the knot

this is the sum and substance of our trade

 

to come too late after the last night raid

misunderstanding signals from a sot

the body is too solid and must fade

this is the sum and substance of our trade