to intoxicate your soul

nowhere near the point of return,

i wonder if you'll ever learn

the night is long and the day exhausts,

you'll struggle adding up all the costs,

glancing as the clouds gathering near

approach like the point of a sharpened spear,

aging in an age of unreason,

season after season,

the drums beat 

on a lonely stretch of street,

and when you reach the trees

will you allow a breeze

to intoxicate your soul?

go and cast your net,

check out what you'll get

pushing stones up the nearest hill

until you get your fill,

down where the animals are in bed

wishing they were satisfied and fed,

and their clamor keeps feeding your head

with visions of merchandise

as clear and cold as ice

and wouldn't it be nice

to have all the jewels in paradise?