Sofiul Azam - A Breeze of Wingèd Hours lyrics

Just as midnight comes, I have got time to think much about nothing or something else, all that I know about the way things work, or about what dreams do I mean giving angelic wings to normal beings. It's nice to meet serious people and hear them explain their views: frustration k**s as lethal gas; nothing's worth the toil we all do, meddling and muddling, for joy; we can't harbour dreams any more, a dreaming luxury isn't lavished on me either ­ a reality it has become now. Whichever way I turn to, barricades I see on my usual street to go home, malice in the minds of those educated fools worse than ignorant tribes that I'm going to meet another day. Why should I oppose everything, and propose nothing? I just as easily wonder why not everything ends in celebration. I just remember the calm sunshine of the heart that with every year grows dim, grows cold, grows small, and expires too soon, before life itself. And I have not got any niche in creation; sleep I can't with my memories of torture in grief's lethal garrison that derides crystals in my eyes. Would that I could bring back kisses of that promised spring, dozing off on the brink of every lovely song, and find miles of golden corn gleaming in the afternoon sun, birds' long flights and a little fun in the evening and serve like a saki gla**es of glory full to the brim ­ the lovely wine and the goodly bread, and get back someone I love, after she has tormented me to the full.. Right now my life's lights are on. Grace lies in plucking the fruit rotten before it is ripe and I must say: I'll see you again whenever spring breaks through, (why should I swim in wealth, yet sink in my own tears?) and to grief: I never forget a face, but in your case I'll be glad to make an exception and restore the decays that happened to us by the fall, by restoring order.