Here are the sad songs sung in infancy streets.
Do I still call the blind to be led? To be fatted?
Some dirge heard, first, faint in the distance,
Now clearer and louder; though the words are indistinct.
Does this choir still sing as one?
The song thereof breaks harsh with menace.
These feet dance still? A slacking rhythm,
Stuttered steps gone blissfully amiss.
Where have you led me now at last?
A candle must flicker somewhere in this floodlight.
And any day now, or even any hour,
Will reprieve this fatigue.
It matters not if men believe or no
What is to come will come.
I can ignore this bluriness,
But did this choir ever sing as one?
Where have you led me now at last?
A candle must flicker somewhere in this floodlight.
Obnoxious in happiness, a vain display,
Just commonplaces in the common way.
Relish in the nerves that now spasm and burn.
The hand gropes now and the other follows in turn.
Can such determined footsteps ever lead astray?
Just commonplaces in the common way.
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