Sadder than any song Ive sung Is growing old or dying young This earth is a grave, round and green A tomb of sorrow which Ive seen A massive field we wander through Great sky above vast and blue Death may come in a day or two Whether or not Im false or true Man, without an answer Like a bird with broken wing Wrapped up in his misery Forgetting how to sing Straight from the stretched out womb of sin The horrid fire bombs will fall Here is hope for priests and preachers Here is heresy for all So, man unkind will perish In a final fiery blaze Or suffocate himself slowly In his smoggy yellow haze The sun so sore from marching Towards that receding west Where pity no longer governs With wisdom as his guest Will rise somewhere south of east Our sun will rise in morning Wishing it could quench with tears The fields and skies all burning
smoggy, sadder, field, governs, receding