Shapes Of Things (originally By The Yardbirds)

Shapes of things before my eyes

They teach me to despise

Will time make man more wise?

Here beneath my lonely frame

My eyes just hurt my brain

But they don't seem the same?

Come tomorrow will I be older

Come tomorrow maybe a soldier

Come tomorrow will I be bolder than today

Now the trees are almost green

But will they still be seen

When time and tide have been?

Boy into these passing hands

Please don't destroy these lands

Don't make them desert sands

Come tomorrow will I be older

Come tomorrow maybe a soldier

Come tomorrow will I be bolder than today

Boy into these passing hands

Please don't destroy these lands

Don't make them desert sands