The Oracle
The unknown soul whose final song was wrote
Like history, saw the future we had planned
And warned us that our life’s a sunken boat
With nothing more than hope, a cup in hand.
With fruitless wares of distant know-hows seen
Is something made for man to see himself
Like plans he promised most were evergreen,
Indeed were nothing more than his ill health.
Behind the forward march, that vast abyss
The warnings that I offer you today,
Show something we'll regret, to reminisce
By leading with temptation do we stray.
As blind may pull the blind, a tow ropes length
The violin has played its last lament,
Looking back at good times are our strength
To futures leaping forward in cement.
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