108 fountains
04-01-2014, 11:22 PM
Gabriel Wren wiped a tear from his eye.
Disappointed with life, he could no longer try
So he spent his nights tossing and twisting the sheets,
Taking desolate turns down darkening streets
Where the buildings blurred by past his blistering feet.
A widow was crying a child was conceived.
A priest warned the mourners gathered not to believe.
What’s that on the ceiling? What’s that on the floor?
If life is a voyage, then what’s that on the shore?
Oh, where is the key to the sacristy door?
And Gabriel Wren saw the slums of New York
And the wretched displays that appear after dark.
He saw a young woman go crazy with fear,
A president shot, and a country of tears,
And a calendar losing its track of the years.
A howl in the night - was it pleasure or pain?
Was it birth? Was it death? Was it mad? Was it sane?
Who is that soul on the bed so still lying?
Alone and forgotten, a mother is crying.
Surprised at the sound, an angel is dying.
And Gabriel saw what the world had to give
And puzzled himself what this gift was to live
He saw all the people who just didn’t care
So he looked in the mirror but nothing was there
Indifference to living behind a blank stare.
So Gabriel laughed and called it a joke,
Preferring dreams to reality and never awoke.
And in his nightmares, a hero was hung
While a child at the gravesite silently sung -
Like everyone he died too young.
Disappointed with life, he could no longer try
So he spent his nights tossing and twisting the sheets,
Taking desolate turns down darkening streets
Where the buildings blurred by past his blistering feet.
A widow was crying a child was conceived.
A priest warned the mourners gathered not to believe.
What’s that on the ceiling? What’s that on the floor?
If life is a voyage, then what’s that on the shore?
Oh, where is the key to the sacristy door?
And Gabriel Wren saw the slums of New York
And the wretched displays that appear after dark.
He saw a young woman go crazy with fear,
A president shot, and a country of tears,
And a calendar losing its track of the years.
A howl in the night - was it pleasure or pain?
Was it birth? Was it death? Was it mad? Was it sane?
Who is that soul on the bed so still lying?
Alone and forgotten, a mother is crying.
Surprised at the sound, an angel is dying.
And Gabriel saw what the world had to give
And puzzled himself what this gift was to live
He saw all the people who just didn’t care
So he looked in the mirror but nothing was there
Indifference to living behind a blank stare.
So Gabriel laughed and called it a joke,
Preferring dreams to reality and never awoke.
And in his nightmares, a hero was hung
While a child at the gravesite silently sung -
Like everyone he died too young.