Forbidding distant calling
Of the hydraulic wailing scream
Forget the falling soldier
Of tomorrow's distant dream
And how we yearn to follow
What we know is not the nights calling
And yonder lies the horizon
Of what we call appalling.
Convenience sings a song unsung
To leave ponderance coming from within the sun
And not that we haven't tried our damnedest
To reach only what others call the fairest.