Young, I have sung, I've sung young
In glassy pools, us fools formed our figures
And lingered until the rose pink dawn hit us
And we stretched and fetched our shoes,
Our clothes and our glow throwing flutes
At you and the others who were growling,
Asking, beckoning, soliciting
The waves and the branches held the morning then
Between orange leaves and foaming breaths
Now we must be silent and have our sleep
And if we must fight, let us in our dreams
