The Porter - A Lament

I could bend the genius' course

Could give wisdom to the blunt

But I doubt they would be grateful

One wish, a breeze to blow over

The shelves and piles of souvenirs

If only they would come to see

Knowing ages pass before a tree

Will spoil us with complexity

They'd be worth a hall of memories

But it's fools I deal with day and night

Fools that only come for short insight

Though all of past hence waits

In sanctity's sweet embrace.

Hear my song of reverence

To the precious gifts that countenance

To clamber high and dig so deep

And seek what everyone should seek.

It's him again - the sullen -

With eyes in envy's mist and woe

Out for refuge in a glimpse of bliss

A short delusion

A frenzy grasp at nothingness

A frenzy grasp at nothingness:

Echoes pound so loud in me

Voices longing for tranquility

A course is set for stormy seas

Leading through the hall of memories

But it's fools I deal with day and night

Fools that only come for short insight

Though all of past hence waits

In sanctity's sweet embrace.

I could bend the genius' course

Could give wisdom to the blunt

But I doubt they would be grateful.