In the quiet of the night, The great beauty of the constellations Can be seen by half the world, Yet they go unnoticed by this pack of drunkards. The cider seems to wipe the conscience clean,
Blue Oceans. Ripe green leaves. The coils of the brains fossil down to sea. Beating down the bushes we laugh and throw the mud we make. You're only blood and bone you know,
The sleeping soul remembers, Good feelings in good times, It is our feelings that drive us, Away from the unkind. The awakened soul sees reality, No longer in the dream,