Crickets.... Okay, what about this one?
“Late Last Night”
Late last night a young girl dreamed
Her love would grow forever,
Then a wise man, who from ages long ago seemed
Took her to a state of never-never,
And he told her everything he’d learned,
Taught her how the silver cord to sever,
But they stumbled and fell into hell.
Every song has now been sung,
The last wedding bell has long since rung,
And the prisoners have all been hung.
There is nothing more to create,
The universe is man’s estate,
The name of it is hate.
There is no new game to try,
No new name to love or cry,
No reason to laugh or die.
No new dreams are born within,
And all that will ever be has been.
There’s no new way to sin.
Each of us is god and so
There is nothing more to know,
No new place to go,
Not even in your mind,
For that was left behind.
Late last night a madman died,
An obvious case of suicide
So they laughed at his graveside,
Saying, “What’s the use to be blue?
There’s nothing that we could do.
Thank God that he’s dead, too!
For the last rites have been said,
The prophets are now all dead,
And their gravestones have not changed to bread.”
But there was a young child,
And a sage with long gray beard,
Who knew Satan’s priest should tell them—warn them
That his spirit had reappeared.
Each of them had seen the light
Flashing far away in the night
To return when the time is right
Some day beyond the end
To start the world spinning again.
[Cf. Ecclesiastes 3:15, 2 Peter 3:3-4 and Hebrews 9:28, among others]
“Late Last Night”
Late last night a young girl dreamed
Her love would grow forever,
Then a wise man, who from ages long ago seemed
Took her to a state of never-never,
And he told her everything he’d learned,
Taught her how the silver cord to sever,
But they stumbled and fell into hell.
Every song has now been sung,
The last wedding bell has long since rung,
And the prisoners have all been hung.
There is nothing more to create,
The universe is man’s estate,
The name of it is hate.
There is no new game to try,
No new name to love or cry,
No reason to laugh or die.
No new dreams are born within,
And all that will ever be has been.
There’s no new way to sin.
Each of us is god and so
There is nothing more to know,
No new place to go,
Not even in your mind,
For that was left behind.
Late last night a madman died,
An obvious case of suicide
So they laughed at his graveside,
Saying, “What’s the use to be blue?
There’s nothing that we could do.
Thank God that he’s dead, too!
For the last rites have been said,
The prophets are now all dead,
And their gravestones have not changed to bread.”
But there was a young child,
And a sage with long gray beard,
Who knew Satan’s priest should tell them—warn them
That his spirit had reappeared.
Each of them had seen the light
Flashing far away in the night
To return when the time is right
Some day beyond the end
To start the world spinning again.
[Cf. Ecclesiastes 3:15, 2 Peter 3:3-4 and Hebrews 9:28, among others]