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do you understand the tortures of a troubled mind,
brought to life through hate and death, to
wrap itself in visions only dreamt, yet
not by night, as you and I might do;
by day, it lives its dreams among mankind
the owner of such a head, is often an object
of accusation, brutality, mockery and
injustice--not even accepted by those
marked sane; those who might take his hand
and hold it for a time; no, he's a reject
what he sees, may or may not be as it seems
he remains ignorant of all, yet the world guffaws
at such a fool, and since the beginning, has never
let its victims laugh along--yet, the claws
of society are nothing to him, for he lives his dreams
such dreams are quite real, and frighten so
that his nightmares form a world unlike our own
he lives here, he breathes here, yet does not exist
in the recesses of his mind--but, to him it's still home
yet, does anyone care enough that his pain they would know
will anyone ever care to love him as a son
and teach him once more what is right and what's wrong
does it not matter, that a human soul suffers; while
others make fun, one of us could be helping him along
and reaping the rewards of a heart's job-well-done
Sunrise brings another day
And I hope that today may be gay
Because too much of my life has been no good
If I could go back, I surely would
Fifty years into the past
When every day was a blast
And I lived in peace and prosperity
With love and life and tenacity
Dreams have come and dreams have gone
Another night, I dream 'till dawn
I see myself when I was young
My heart was light with cheerful song
But, fifty years it has been since
And forgive me if I do wince
But, every year is nothing it seems
Compared with those years that haunt my dreams
Fifty years have passed me by
Another day--it makes me cry
To know that my life has been
And will be all that I have seen
Sing me a song, and make it sweet as the wine I sit and sip,
No dear hymn that God woulds't hear from thy divine lip
No tune of sorrow, no lament, for heroes of old days
For theirs were wicked times, and most unfaithful ways
But, sing for me, a newer tune, of love and hope and light
Sing for me some sweet song to make my spirit bright
Duller than my once-noble blade, and fainter than the kiss
Of that devilish young peasant-maid, I now do sorely miss
Play upon your lyre, my serf, and bid Peace be with me
No troubles shall disturb my thoughts, my mind shall be set free
Oh, you who wish with every breath that you were in my place
I hear it in your lark-like voice, I see it in your face
But, you are Laughter's daughter, and cannot understand
How I can miss those desperate times, for right I stood and stand
Yet, now old Age has taken me, and I am bent with shame
But, through those songs of my young years, they shall recall my name
A river rushes to meet the sea
And swallows the streams that run to overtake
A violent current--dangerous adversary
Crashing and cutting along the jagged shore
Violet waters flow so gently forth
The clouds above stop to peer a moment
On its sight--small boats making berth--
And see a ribbon, winding its way over land