Summer breeze soft, gently, soft,
Under the cool green shade,
Near the dabbling, babbling brook,
Still up, up in the glade.
No one knows just when it becomes,
Maybe a butterfly. But
when it does become -
What sweet motivations move in your mind,
And call you to rest and to sleep - yet dream not?
What god-like demon of fate most divine,
Has changed you in ways we never had thought?
Forgive me, faith, I know not what I say,
For I scorn thee when all you do is try;
I'd forgive, faith, should you lead me astray,
And sit still as the stars fall from the sky.
Tis not so bad, I suppose,
If one's exile is self imposed
This selfness does not seem to me
If you, being the moon, shone half as bright,
During your ghostly, nighttime vigilance,
It would not impede, nor impair mine sight,
In truth 'twould hardly make a difference.
I am silent, nervous, hiding,
Barely daring breathing loud.
I am desperate, stupid, stumbling,
I know crying's not allowed.
PC, PC, SVP!
Follow the words to the Sargasso Sea,
The Cubs! Hooray!
Oh great Fire! Oh great Flame!
Oh great Arrow, take your aim!
Oh Shambhala, kingdom come!
Don't forget where you are from!
...and nobody cares,
Because why? and what for?
And the nobodies sleep on the parishon' floor.
And they ask 'but why me? '