A man struggles with his grip
As his paints begin to drip
The rumble in the earth puts his hand to crime
And his brush falls down to mingle
With swords on bloody shingles
As a poet puts a dare to father time
By building on a ballad
For his lady who is now dead
Which he knows not, while he writes his life away
Tables are turning
Home fires are burning
To test their learning
Their late discerning
Leaves time to do or lie
The player exits stage in haste
Finding death not to his taste
Fear halts the play as colors leave the day
Just as his makeup turns to white
His entire life flashes alight
In such a briefly emotional fray
Destinies churning
It'll leave 'em yearning
No proud man's earning
Could buy sojourning
Though doubtless they may try
And the prince forgets the king
With his wealth encumbering
His horse drives as his compassion fades away
And the sailor who awaits him
With neglect and greed that baits him
Will soon be buried strong beneath the bay
Two lovers guessing it's the end
Pay off lust with time to spend
Before the hourglass holds no more to relay
And tables turn nigh
When home fires burn dry
Men facing stern eyes
Learn each sojourn dies
In the midst of the cries
Prisoners discuss over tea
No longer caring to be free
Yet they do not remain safe through the melee
Meanwhile a man runs from his room
To lead them all away from doom
With paint stained clothes, he offers no delay
They see him as mad and ignore
As his warnings fleet out by the score
All of humanity goes on it's way
