I thought that the somber light in the room
would honor my face of lacquer and gloom
It tightens about, like emptiness tightened
Few thought me present, yet fewer a groom
Wax on the years, remain unenlightened

And it turns, and it turn, and it turns
I could turn wicked - the thought would ensicken
Those who insist that the blind man learns

Mighty and simple the times turned around
Though I was surprised at the arrow's rebound
I put a few sparks then in a velvet locker
To enkindle the fire, and make every sound
deafen my voice, the trite whine and bicker

And they say and they say and they say
That tomorrow is bright, I'd believe it alright
If tomorrow had been not every day

But listen to me, complain and complain
Complain of complaining, attention should wane
Just a moment or two short of midnight
And I'll tell you, that though I am insane
I have all the rest, it's just locked in a fight