The Strings of Phoebus Do Not Sing

The strings of Phoebus do not sing And bond of love is useless thing The bread men need the bread men eat And Muses murdered with the greed. We see the dreams and our dreams are filled with everlasting screams here is the gnome here is the elf, Who cares? I guess men want the wealth. When everything is dust, and wind takes out the past for sake of fiend Satyr with flute prepares show, He sold himself, he knows the "law". And Phoebus doesn't play, he's fat, He needs the bread he eats the bread, Sings out of tune there is no sense I think it's sadly dear friends.