Shapes of Things

Shapes of things before my eyes

Just teach me to despise

Will time make men more wise?

Here within my lonely frame

My eyes just hurt my brain

But will it seem the same?

Come tomorrow, will I be older?

Come tomorrow, may be a soldier

Come tomorrow, may I be bolder than today?

Now, the trees are almost green

But will they still be seen

When time and tide have been?

Fall into your passing hands

Please don't destroy these lands

Don't make them desert sands

Come tomorrow, will I be older?

Come tomorrow, may be a soldier

Come tomorrow, may I be bolder than today?

Soon I hope that I will find

Thoughts deep within my mind

That won't disgrace my kind