There will be no end soon If I've seen things right that have come People will be scared, they never will see anything Meanwhile all of my friends have been struck dumb How can no final thing come When our faces are pulled from us How can someone blame who they refuse to name For pulling other people down with them Some have risen, they are lucky To have their fall delayed by people What they have is threaded, grafted and plotted Played out and bad Some have made mistakes for us Waiting by the door for us We told them to go ahead, their support is just a weight Better to sever the weighted limb Where is it hanging tonight ? It is not looming to propel us along We move ourselves to it, one year to sit in dirt One cycle with which to comment upon the dirt