These thirty years
Old men have filled my ears
With middle-aged ideas
That never have been young,
They made me wise.
I learnt to whitewash lies.
I learnt to shut my eyes,
And hold my tongue.
Damned Philistine.
And was it then so fine
To learn to draw the line.
( Is there a line to draw? )
And must I then
For threescore years and ten
Worship the laws of men
Who worshipped law?
Those laws are dust
To-day, and yet I must
Be faithful still, and trust
In what dead men did prove.
Magic may kill
Their wisdom and their will,
Yet I must follow still
Their path... my groove....