Andrew Cedermark
Untruth
Where are the gallant men That we swam with in our youth? Do they needle at the moon? Do they sleep in God's truth? May what little bread they find Rest on sills above their reachMay a pang turn in their gutsAnd a pain reel in their heartsFor I had loved them all I couldPrayed no rain should fall on their roofsIf I try that love againAnd it's true, truth is untruthNature, on its own timeBore a fissure in the sluiceAnd so they called for evening, so it descendsDancing is for fatter men
From Letras Mania