Oh Wearisome World.

The only privacy that I can find
Is in the corners of my weary mind.
But even then the thoughts drift by:
- A man, a woman, the earth, the sky!

The man is dressed in armour plate,
And carries a sword and defending plate,
On his chest engraved in slate,
A word is written and the word is "Hate"

The woman is beautiful and is with child,
Her deep blue eyes are open wide.
She carries a rose of white inside,
A rose of peace - Loves own child.

And then the earth, black drifts passed,
And on it's surface there is cast
All hated things 'till the very last.
I draw my breath - aghast, aghast!

Now in the sky, blue far above
Is flying wild the snow white dove,
It carries the rose - the rose of love.
It's free and wild - yet far above.

So cursed be these weary things
I can't escape them nor human beings.
There's still no privacy that I can find
Not even in the corners of my own mind!

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