There burns a wooden boat upon a silver lake And inside suffering
eternal And tomorrow right before the quake A newborn turns
ephemeral A desperate child's imaginings Has ruined the world for
us And if there is a solemn thing Its made its final thrust We've
cut it short of all that's good And left it all the earth And through
every neighborhood Is sighted a black hearse Our outlook changed And so did all the scheming We left our boats And left our Noah
dreaming Please hold us to this promise of a higher self Protect us
from our stolen glory We're all reduced to merely stealth And a red
book of ageless stories
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