My eyes are sown open
Unable to close
And I'm stung by the breeze
That my memory blows
And the breeze fans the fire
That began as a spark
The blind old street singer
Sings songs in the dark
But where are the songs of the beauty
The old organ grinder
Has just gone insane
And his monkey lies dead
Choked to death by it's chain
And the cup it lies empty
It hasn't a dime
My heart beat is slowed
In to three-Four time
And wher are the songs of my beauty
The anger of emptiness
Jumps from the queen
As she summons her jester
To dance and to sing
But the jester is crying
And refuses to sing
Hell die in the morning
At the hands of the king
But where are the songs of forgiving?
