Forever are the ways of old.

Behind the masking sun of the valley, rises the oak.
Beyond the walls surrounding the torches and the masses,
Only the corpses of the video and the jumpers remain.
The sea is silent now.
Before the tides of the unknown, after the winds of innoence,
Lies, forbidden to all, the jacket, the jacket of hope.
For the days are claming, the nights worthwhile.
Maddening it is, when you see the factories, the roads,
Winding along to nowhere, the buses scam, and trains plan.
When bays are wet and days are long, beware the ford driving in your beer.
The castles are still standing, the passing fiddle player says,
Forever are the ways of old, tomorrow it will change.
It will return, it will reset.
Before this, in the chaos, there was a harmony, a balance,
While this gone, it will return, sometime, somewhere.
Time.
Time is here, not there.
Be Seeing You.