Eternal Outsider 2
D
Dm W
0
Altın Yaprak
O how wretched and broken am I:
Lost in this dire town of hostile hordes.
O how alienated I am,
Amidst the bovine, conforming clans.
O they cannot comprehend my words,
And they sneer at my dark poetry.
Although my voice is now weak and worn,
And Romance's flowers have withered,
I‘m still blessed with gifts of prophecy.
I'd like to purify perception.
I seek to reclaim consciousness from
The violent grip of the crudest of tribes:
Whose foulest poison pollutes the air.
I see things that they don't want to see.
Like the proverbial ostrich they
Place their heads in the sand. But I see
Far beyond this absurd place and time:
Of bright logos, flags and uniforms;
Of endless chatter; devoid of meaning;
Of bleak 9 to 5 existences:
Where real freedom is illusory.
Yet still I will continue to plant
The seeds of my visions... perhaps in vain.
For, as Oscar Wilde once cleverly quipped:
‘Society often forgives the
Criminal, But never the dreamer.'
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş