How many more days of this stillness Before the fire will blow out A restless wind did use to stir it But its wind-still and the silence is loud How many more days of disorder Of drunkenly raving around
I’ve been sleeping down here among minions Their carelessness scattered about Trapped in a body that doesn't act on thought I have a sense of utopia Of what I truly ought to do Born onto the tide Is it really any wonder that I’m here like this An alliance in body and mind Such a perfect lover I could become
How many How many hollow declarations will follow Lulled into a trance I have been sitting in congress with nations Rubbing my perspiring hands How many attempts will it take to Bloom in splendorous foul Now I’m so tender and wingless Gangling out on the prowl How many How many How many How many
