Now that i shall sink and die in the nadirs of my own house;
And my tears shall trickle down and fall on the distrait soils of my land,
Now that i shall fall and wither
If at all I have to free myself from the need to be free
Now that I shall not live to see the tomorrow of tomorrow;
Where putrid hope is the best foundation for all choice,
The old remain in power and the youth can't raise a voice!
decreipted political shafts burn their dreams in to a desultory patch!
Now that i shall not live to see the breech birth of a born again religion;
that will denude minds and lead them astray
And its servants claim the word for a grist to their mill or play,
Faith unfaithful keep them falsely true!
Now that i shall not live to witness those civil contretemps evolve into wars,
while the government like Giles in the old rhyme wonder whether they
are a government or not!
And their fatal blindness to immemorial history's warning signals
makes them to embrace further difficulties and further predicaments!
Now that i shall not be there to witness the ramifications of being there,
Now that i shall be there not to see not
that i shall breath my last and not be there to see