|
Shapes of things before my eyes |
|
Just teach me to dispise. |
|
Will time make man more wise? |
|
Here, within my lonely frame. |
|
My eyes just hurt my brain. |
|
But will it 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. |
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But will they still be seen |
|
When time and tide have been? |
|
Soon, I hope that |
|
I will find |
|
Thoughts deep within my mind |
|
That won't disgrace my kind. |
|
Come tomorrow, will |
|
I be older? |
|
Come tomorrow, maybe a soldier? |
|
Come tomorrow, will |
|
I be bolder than today? |
|
Shapes of things before my eyes |
|
Just teach me to dispise. |
|
Will time make man more wise? |
