Related quotes: Before he wrote a poem,...

John

Before he wrote a poem, he learned the measure
That living in the future gives a farm--
Propinquity of mules and cows, the charmed
Insouciance of hens, the fellowship,
At dawn, of seed-time and of harvest-time.
But when high noon gave way to evening, and
The fences lay, bent shadows, on the crops
And pastures to the yellowing trees, he felt
The presences he felt when, over rocks,
Through pools and where it wears the bank, the stream
Ran bright and dark at once, itself its shadow;
And suffered, in all he knew, the antagonists
Related in the Bible, in himself
And every new condition from the beginning,
As in the autumn leaf and summer prime.
Therefore he chose to live the only game
Worthy of repetition, in the likeness
Of someone like himself, a race of which
He was the changing distances and ground,
The runners, and the goal that runs away
Forever into time; or like two players
At odds in white and black, their dignities
Triumphs refused or losses unredeemed.
For the one, that it be ever of the pure
Intention that he witnessed in the high
Stained windows of King's Chapel--ancestral stories,
The old above the new, like pages shining
From an essential book--he taught his mind
To imitate the meditation, sovereign
In verse and prose, of those who shared with him
Intelligence of beauty, good, and truth
As one, unchanging and unchangeable,
Disinterested excitement through a sentence
Their joy and passion. For the other, as
A venturer asleep, he went among
The voiceless and unvisionary many--
Like one who offers blood to know his fate
Or hold his twin again--deep in the midnight
Baths of New Orleans, on its plural beds
And on the secret banks beside its river,
The many who, anonymous as he was,
Uncannily resembled him, appearing
Immortal in a finitude of mirrors.

But when the sudden force of the disease
Tossed him, in a new garment, on the bed
Where he had wakened, mornings, as a child--
Despised by all the neighbors, helpless, blind
And vulnerable to every life, he listened
Intensely to the roosters, mules and cows
As well as to the voices of the desk,
The chair, the books and pictures, pastures and fields,
The tree of every season, the age of seas
And, on its surge, the age of galaxies,
The bells within the spires of Cambridge, bodies
And faces revealed or hidden in the flow,
All that we knew or could imagine joined
Together in the sound the stream flows through
As witness of itself in every change,
Each trusting in its continuities,
All turning in a final radiant shell.
Then, on his darkened eye, he saw himself
A compact disk awhirl, played by the light
He came from and was ready to reenter,
But not before he chose the way to go.
And so it was, before his death, he spoke
The poem that is his best, the final letter
To take to that old country as a passport.

poem by Edgar Bowers
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Related quotes

A Poem Is A Poem

As I sat in my room,
On my little desk chair,
I began to feel
A hint of despair.

I had for my homework,
A poem to create,
And if it wasen't done then,
It would have been late.

My school, my dog,
A tree or my home,
Which of these subjects,
Should I choose for my poem?

You can see for yourself,
That my problem was bad,
No poem could I think of,
My; this was sad.

As I sat there and gazed,
A thought came to mind:
A poem is a poem,
Just as long as it rhymes.

So I wrote down some words,
And tossed them around,
Until they rhymed nicely,
And had a smooth sound.

My poem was all finished,
My homework all done,
It wasen't bad after all,
It even was fun!

Longfellow, Whitman,
Robert Frost too,
I've discovered there secret
That all of them knew.

A poem is no problem,
It takes not much time,
You write down your thoughts,
In a way that will rhyme.

poem by Sarah Stopka
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Alabama Clay

First time he saw the ground get busted
He was ten and it was 1952
His daddy worked hard from sunup to sundown
And the goin got tough behind them ol grey mules
The farm grew to be a moneymaker
And the house he lived in grew up room by room
The boy worked hard but soon got tired of farmin
So he slipped away one night neath the harvest moon
His neck was red as alabama clay
But the citys call pulled him away
Hes got a factory job and runs a big machine
He dont miss the farm or the fields of green
Now the citys just a prison without fences
His job is just a routine he cant stand
And at night he dreams of wide-open spaces
Fresh dirt between his toes and on his hands
Then one day a picture came inside a letter
Of a young girl with a baby in her arms
And the words she wrote would change his life forever
So he went to raise his family on the farm
His neck is red as alabama clay
Now hes goin home this time to stay
Where the roots run deep on the family tree
And the tractor rolls through the fields of green
His neck is red as alabama clay
Now hes goin home this time to stay
Where the roots run deep on the family tree
And the tractor rolls through the fields of green
His neck is red as alabama clay

song performed by by Garth Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Autumn Sing

Here’s the autumn sing…
A symphony from its falling leaf…
Catching the wind from a future winter…
Rolling through a shy light…

Oh autumn shall not die in winter…
As a promise summer will surely come….
Ah autumn is a second spring…
Not all could see, all leaf is flower….

Autumn warn a terrible winter phase….
No one listen, No one will hear it…
As it is only the sound of silence….
Who can hold an indefinite sound...?

No one embrace the autumn….
As it is only a sad phase…
It gives nothing but an autumn chill….
Spring always comes with a better glory…

Oh autumn with its broken feather…
Could other season patch it up again?
No other season will devote their being….
Autumn suffers alone….

Autumns leaf keep on falling…
Spring comes cheerfully…
Summer comes strongly….
Winter always comes coldly…..
But autumn changes its face every time….

No one knows the differences….
Just the secret of the nature…
Why can’t it’d be a spring?
Why can’t it’d be summer?
Why can’t it’d be winter?

Ah autumn dance again between all the falling leaf…
It enjoys its sadness…
It embraces its pain….
As only from autumn all painter learn…
How to capture a true hidden beauty…

All speaks the same in every season….
But autumn remain different…..
For autumn is an alone singer…
Only a genuinely soul painter could witness its beauty….
That’s all the autumn need….
A silence audience....
Who can make other being see….
A glance of its beauty...

poem by Eva Clara Harahap
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I Feel Like A Leaf In Autumn

I feel like a leaf in Autumn borne along by flooded rill
Running down the silent valley down along the moonlit hill
Down to join the flooded river towards it's final destiny
To it's deep grave in salt water in the bosom of the sea.

I felt like that leaf in Springtime on it's lovely mother tree
With it's brothers and it's sisters one big happy family
A bright green leaf in a green World dancing in the wind and rain
Give me back what's gone forever give me back my youth again.

I felt like that leaf in Summer when the sun shone in the sky
And the world was full of colour and wild songbirds piped for joy
And bright wildflowers in green meadow fit home for fair butterfly
Oh but all that's young and beautiful has one day got to die.

I feel like a leaf in Autumn borne along by flooded stream
Running down the moonlit valley that was once so very green
Down to join the flooded river towards it's final destiny
To be gone and lost forever in the bosom of the sea.

poem by Francis Duggan
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An Intellectual Life...

inside this glass world
lives the porcupine
fish

the sea is made of
pure air

everyone is swimming
with the hands and feet of their
minds

one eye sees through another
eye like light piercing a sea of

transparencies and ripples
of doubts are reinvented

it is a deep ocean
imagine a world of porcupine fishes

silence are not knives here
there are no stab wounds on the water

everyone knows how to breathe
without making any sound of rustling leaves

outside this glass world
lies the world of fences and over there are the greener pastures

the fences are high like clouds on the cliffs
and the pastures have no milking cows in fact

it is a jungle without trees
and you will be having a hard time to imagine a

justification why this world is becoming a puzzle
of new languages and reinvented scripts and scenarios

but this is it, this is the way how fists land on chests
how lips design the shape of spits

long ago, they drew ivory towers and disoriented pillars
long ago, they were whistling out of touch tunes

now, there are heads rising from the armpits
feet from abdomens fingers from the anus

and they are talking about dormant diseases that
come out in the open only after your 50th year

out there the mockery is getting louder
the air as colder as men whose blood is removed from them.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Black Virgin

One in thy thousand statues we salute thee
On all thy thousand thrones acclaim and claim
Who walk in forest of thy forms and faces
Walk in a forest calling on one name
And, most of all, how this thing may be so
Who know thee not are mystified to know
That one cries "Here she stands" and one cries "Yonder"
And thou wert home in heaven long ago.

Burn deep in Bethlehem in the golden shadows,
Ride above Rome upon the horns of stone,
From low Lancastrian or South Saxon shelters
Watch through dark years the dower that was shine own:
Ghost of our land, White Lady of Walsinghame,
Shall they not live that call upon thy name
If an old song on a wild wind be blowing
Crying of the holy country whence they came?

Root deep in Chartres the roses blown of glass
Burning above thee in the high vitrailles,
On Cornish crags take for salute of swords
O'er peacock seas the far salute of sails,
Glooming in bronze or gay in painted wood,
A great doll given when the child is good,
Save that She gave the Child who gave the doll,
In whom all dolls are dreams of motherhood.

I have found thee like a little shepherdess
Gay with green ribbons; and passed on to find
Michael called Angel hew the Mother of God
Like one who fills a mountain with a mind:
Molten in silver or gold or garbed in blue,
Or garbed in red where the inner robe burns through,
Of the King's daughter glorious within:
Change shine unchanging light with every hue.

Clothed with the sun or standing on the moon
Crowned with the stars or single, a morning star,
Sunlight and moonlight are thy luminous shadows,
Starlight and twilight thy refractions are,
Lights and half-lights and all lights turn about thee,
But though we dazed can neither see nor doubt thee,
Something remains. Nor can man live without it
Nor can man find it bearable without thee.

There runs a dark thread through the tapestries
That time has woven with all the tints of time
Something not evil but grotesque and groping,
Something not clear; not final; not sublime;
Quaint as dim pattern of primal plant or tree
Or fish, the legless elfins of the sea,
Yet rare as this shine image in ebony
Being most strange in its simplicity.

Rare as the rushing of the wild black swans
The Romans saw; or rocks remote and grim
Where through black clouds the black sheep runs accursed
And through black clouds the Shepherd follows him.
By the black oak of the aeon-buried grove
By the black gems of the miner's treasure-trove
Monsters and freaks and fallen stars and sunken-
Most holy dark, cover our uncouth love.

From shine high rock look down on Africa
The living darkness of devouring green
The loathsome smell of life unquenchable,
Look on low brows and blinking eyes between,
On the dark heart where white folk find no place,
On the dark bodies of an antic race,
On all that fear thy light and love thy shadow,
Turn thou the mercy of thy midnight face.

This also is in thy spectrum; this dark ray;
Beyond the deepening purples of thy Lent
Darker than violet vestment; dark and secret
Clot of old night yet cloud of heaven sent:
As the black moon of some divine eclipse,
As the black sun of the Apocalypse,
As the black flower that blessed Odysseus back
From witchcraft; and he saw again the ships.

In all thy thousand images we salute thee,
Claim and acclaim on all thy thousand thrones
Hewn out of multi-colored rocks and risen
Stained with the stored-up sunsets in all tones-
If in all tones and shades this shade I feel,
Come from the black cathedrals of Castille
Climbing these flat black stones of Catalonia,
To thy most merciful face of night I kneel.

poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Rill From The Foot Of The Mountain

The rill from the foot of the mountain that joins the river to the sea
It has babbled on downhill forever by hedgerows in the high
Country
It has witnessed the birth and death of millions of Seasons even before the first Human was born
In the upland wood where it flows through the birds sing at dawn of the morn.

The rill it is truly immortal something that will live forever more
Forever 'twill flow to the river that flows to the great ocean shore
To it there is not a time limit it is as old as father time
It has inspired the long dead poets to glorify it in their rhyme.

The rill from the foot of the mountain towards the river ripples along
And sometimes above it's quiet babble the dippers can be heard in song
The dark brown white breasted waterbirds of Human kind they do seem shy
By the water-way they were born and in the water-way they will die.

The rill from the foot of the mountain downhill to the big river flow
The ancestors of the upland farmers who lived by it centuries ago
In the old Village graveyard it flows by with the long departed they lay
As on for to join the big river it babbles on it's downhill way.

poem by Francis Duggan
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The River of Me

I launched myself on the river me
Way back when I was two or three
I sailed out through the wall of snow
Beneath the bridge where all kids go

That Cheyenne Bodie was ten feet tall
His voice so deep it filled a hall
And that was who I dreamed I’d be
Until Cochise came on the scene

There was ice on the river and ice on the pond
And the singing nun sang on and on
There were trees on the river bank, cliffs by the sea
And fish galore in the river of me

The fields were full of cows, corn or wheat
The air was thick with bees and heat
The summer lasted all year long
I never knew til it was gone

And then of course came that high school girl
Her glances made my river swirl
More complex than the universe
I never knew what she’d do next

There was light on the river and light on the pond
And the singing nun sang on and on
There were trees on the river bank, cliffs by the sea
And fish galore in the river of me

And up we soared towards the sky
Through songs and dancing by and by
My waterfalls and waves ran high
For just the winking of an eye

And in the distance the quiet sea
was waiting on the river me
And on the banks the weeds grew tall
Where rusting leaves began to fall

Now there’s night on the river and night on the pond
And the singing nun is long since gone
There are trees on the river bank, cliffs by the sea
And memories in the river of me

I launched myself on the river me
Way back when I was two or three
I sailed out through the wall of snow
Beneath the bridge where all kids go

poem by Jim Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Perfect Perfect Poem

Imagine that God asked you to write the perfect poem.
You sat down at the table, pen and paper at the ready.
You let your mind drift, as if in gentle wholesome prayer.
You wait for some guidance as to the main theme.
Into your mind came the title. How? You could not say.
Yet there it was, as if it were your destiny... your duty...
You write the title down and pause to think about it...
Into your mind come images, unbidden, unrehearsed.

Images unfolding, as from some midnight dream.
You think you should write down the first line.
You force the first verse to fit your new desire.
The words work well and you are warmly pleased.
With a faithful heart, you press on with joy.
The images continue and more words flow...
Who is the writer now? Who is leading the pen?
You are puzzled as the images stop suddenly.

You are given time to catch up, so all is well.
The words become eloquent, bold and fanciful.
The story becomes more than what is first known.
A hidden meaning has yet to be revealed.
You sense it is on its way and you strain to know it.
What can it be? Is it a secret from the Lord?
Is it a precious prophecy, is it a holy revelation?
And you tremble, with eyes closed tight, waiting.

'Tell me! ' you plead with God... 'Tell me! '
Then the secret comes and all you see is light.
White hot burning light, the essence of God's glory.
It is fitting to kneel in the presence of Christ.
Behold the Son of the Most High, the risen Lord...
And all that was written before means nothing.
Now is the time for revelation, for the Lord speaks.
And you are truly ready, for now is the time to write.

poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life after death..... a journey

the shadow of the mystery of the
new life, awake
the womb of
life forever

life has wondered the solitude of time,
the stream of life of light
echo in a distance,
transcending the
ray that gives the
breath of life

time has drown to reveals
the essence of existence,
where wisdom has
lighted to glitter
in the dark

illusion of passion intertwine the
mystery of life, for the
twilight zone of dawn
of a new life is the
beginning of
life after death

face the dawn my dear soul... its the
end of time....a beginning of an
endless life time

poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Final adieu, Jackson

Final adieu Jackson

Our heart felt so much sadness to offer you colorful wreath,
We were all soaked with tears on your death,
Heart beats witnessed rise and fall and stopped to breathe
Millions cried all over but there was nobody to soothe,

Oh, legandry figure and king of pope
We had high regard and high hope,
You had excellence and found arts to rope,
Sadness, happiness and misery were ready to cope,

You crated music which was eternal in essence
Sentiments ran high and you lived with elegance
Music, concerts and program made you always tense,
Your message of Life couldn’t be delivered in any sentence,

World really faced from music starvation and alienation,
Music was dying out and there was no more innovation,
You came on earth to offer new creations,
Couples and fans world over enjoyed with recreations

It was dimensional path with new direction
Live shows all over and dance in action,
Feet were playing game by creating lovely melody,
New soul was breathing and dancing the whole body,

You were true to cause and worthy Jackson
Truly wedded to your profession and worthy son,
What did you gain in your entire stay,
Lived self in exile or isolation and kept far away,

You suffered for the cause pf humanity and mankind
People fooled you and cheated with gesture unkind
You faced them one by one and didn’t mind,
You remained liberal at hear and too mild

We were not at your death bed side
You breathed last and we could not hide
It was our deepest regard for you as kind soul
How could we smell in you as any foul?

We could not witness your last funeral,
Millions may watch your final inaugural,
we wish our words to reach in your ear,
Memory will cherish for coming many years

How could you be taken away in this way?
We had so much hope and waited for bright ray
You were sign of emerging as bright star
You will be twinkling in sky very far
,

We have lost our dearest and worthy son,
Respect and regard high for no other reason,
World may change and so also the seasons,
Music of eternal peace will remain for all persons,

You may still rule the scene for many generations
To occupy your place or throne is out of question
You lived so short among us and bade farewell
We have cried for you to pray” stay always well”

Our heart felt condolences to the millions of lovers all over the world for bidding final good bye. Long live kind pope of music.

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Black and White and Red

Black and White
And Red I see
Demons they do
Torture me
Black and White
And Red all day
The voices are real
Or so they say
Black and White
And Red abound
I'm lost I call
I'm never found
Black and White
And Red flow out
I scream but you
Don't hear me shout
Black and White
And Red so bright
Exit blood and
Enter light
Black and White
And Red of death
Now I breathe
My final breath

poem by Anonymous Ghurl
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To The College Boys

un / fortunately she to my best pal was sent,
she said him'can ur books by me be lent.'....
he gave her his fate,
in hope dat with her whole life he would go for date..

with her time like sand passed by,
she said him'without u i shall die'
he thought all this were truth,
but he knew not the path had no fruit.

she as a student was weak,
but knew with his help good marks she would seek.
her plan worked out well,
coz he taught her without any fail.

the results were out,
she topped without any doubt.
but he didnot get good score,
he got 75 but potentials he had more.

she left him,
coz she says'with u my future is dim.'
he felt very low,
and saw the whole world as a foe.

we all knew he was very strong,
but also knew recovery time he needed was long.
but he recovered soon,
and now he shined like spotless moon.

now back to him she came,
seeing his bright and yet growing fame.
but he said'y u came here,
go away if to God u fear...........'

that day we both laughed the whole night,
more louder as past came to our clear sight.
but to all i would say...
'don't wait till dat bad day'................................

poem by Ajitav Basak
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Grace In Retrospect

GRACE IN RETROSPECT
Beauty of raising sun at break of dawn
Forever can’t hold on after it is gone
Beauty of sun setting in to ocean in evening
At the night’s beginning is not forever holding
Beauty of blooming flowers in all different colors
Is only passing pictures before its time to wither
Only grace in retrospect

Beauty of changing seasons for nature’s good reasons
Is only temporary vision of life’s many illusions
Beauty of many events sweet and sad moments
Are only time’s sentiments of ascent and descent
Beauty of life’s birth on this mortal earth
Is faith of truth before time for death
Only grace in retrospect

poem by Mittur Ramprasad
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race In Retrospect

poem by Mittur Ramprasad
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Take The Black

The moon is full you can not see
There's something in the air
Sound asleep you're into deep
Protecting your own lair
The lion roar into the night
Yet another foe to slay
Who are you that I see right through
The hunter or the pray?
Too late to hear the final warning
No one can defy the reaper
Voices - Twisted
Calling out your name
Voices - Twisted
Calling for you
Ain't no reason for the rhyme
Take the Black - Ready to attack
Take the Black
Face to face you bide your time
Take the Black - Ready to attack
Take the Black
You though you had it all in there
In your little bag of tricks
Insanity won't set you free
As you cross the river Styx
You're out of time your bridges burn
In the undying flame
We'll nail you down to the ground
For you to bear the shame
Too late to hear the final warning
No one can defy the reaper
Voices - Twisted
Calling out your name
Voices - Twisted
Calling for you
Ain't no reason for the rhyme
Take the Black - Ready to attack
Take the Black
Face to face you bide your time
Take the Black - Ready to attack
Voices - Twisted
Calling out your name
Voices - Twisted
Calling for you
Ain't no reason for the rhyme
Take the Black - Ready to attack
Take the Black
Face to face you bide your time
Take the Black - Ready to attack
Ain't no reason for the rhyme
Take the Black - Ready to attack
Take the Black
Face to face you bide your time
Take the Black - Ready to attack

song performed by by Hammerfall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Inevitable for M 'lady Mary Gordley

The rugged rocks although they try
cannot prevent, merely delay.
The flowing stream which will pass by
and in so doing wear away.

The rocks which try to stem the flow
and slowly grind them down to sand.
This is the secret rivers know
theirs is the task to change the land

Although the rugged rocks maintain.
That they will keep their pride of place.
The water moves them grain by grain
until there’s very little trace.

They may endure for centuries
but water flows eternally.
The rocks succumb eventually
and leave the river flowing free.

Time also like a river flows
and wears away the lives of men
Though to what end and what purpose.
Men question time and time again.

There are some things we may not know
and that is why there’s no reply.
We only know it must be so
that in due course all men must die.

22-Mar-08

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Black And White

Long before you ever saw your chances
You were going to burn this city down
Tired of the fashions and the dances
Tired of the people standing around
Ticking like a bomb in the night
And you knew you were right
Black and white
Blame it on the time it took to leave here
Blame it on the ones who slowed you down
Blame it on the kind of friends you knew here
Blame it on the sickness going 'round
Going round and round in the night
With your heart out of sight
With your world burning bright
Like a moth 'round a light
Black and white
The pictures of a life in flames
Black and white
The picture of a life remains
And the search you half remember
Setting out on at the start
Is burning like an ember in your heart
Time running out time running out
For the fool still asking what his life is about
Time running out time running out
Time running out time running out
Yeah, beyond a shadow of a doubt
Time running out time running out
Tell them that you've gone to find a person
Someone you lost track of long ago
Tell them that it's someone you need worse than
Anybody else you'll ever know
Ticking like a bomb in the night
You were strong, you were light
You were fast, you were bright
Then you were gone in the light
Black and white
The pictures of a life in flames
Black and white
The picture of a life remains
And the high ideals and the promise
You once dressed the future in
Are dancing in the embers with the wind
Time running out time running out
For the fool still asking what his life is about
Time running out time running out
Time running out time running out
Yeah, beyond a shadow of a doubt
Time

song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Swimming The Past Time

Disappear between the space of dust
In a smoke, within the light
Time moves in any speed
Continuously without tired no rest
In a chime of turbulence
Swimming back to the past
For the broad river back to early creek
Unfold the memories of past ages
In the album of experience, our old life
Reversing tears back to enter the eyes
Revisiting old smiles back on lips one more time
Wandering all before just before now
Still, we moving forward heading toward the future
Toward the estuary, swimming follow the flowing time
Moving back or in front, physical still here
Wandering, facing the stream only our mind
All good, bad now a past scenery along the time river
We heading to estuary to be as a part of wise ocean
Till time sending our final destiny to the sea
Another scenery of cry or happy we will feel and see
Just to move forward, forgive, learn to gain from past
Nothing to waste because time moves in any speed
So i will let my tears flow and smiles glow
Live these beautiful feelings in my life
For all time, as i know
Soon we will have no more
to hold each other (time and life)

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :
Having a break from 'Rise from Ashes' theme
and trying write something like 'Swimming the past time'
A poem that i done as i felt how fast time disappear...
just wrote it and post it

Life walking within time, and time never stop walking
and moves in any speed..so just bring your life some cheers
in everyday even it's hard...or not _Unwritten Soul

poem by Unwritten Soul
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Black & White

Long before you ever saw your chances
You were going to burn this city down
Tired of the fashions and the dances
Tired of the people standing around
Ticking like a bomb in the night
And you knew you were right
Black and white
Blame it on the time it took to leave here
Blame it on the ones who slowed you down
Blame it on the kind of friends you knew here
Blame it on the sickness going round
Going round and round in the night
With your heart out of sight
With your world burning bright
Like a moth round a light
Black and white
The pictures of a life in flames
Black and white
The picture of a life remains
And the search you half remember
Setting out on at the start
Is burning like an ember in your heart
Time running out time running out
For the fool still asking what his life is about
Time running out time running out
Time running out time running out
Yeah, beyond a shadow of a doubt
Time running out time running out
Tell them that youve gone to find a person
Someone you lost track of long ago
Tell them that its someone you need worse than
Anybody else youll ever know
Ticking like a bomb in the night
You were strong, you were light
You were fast, you were bright
Then you were gone in the light
Black and white
The pictures of a life in flames
Black and white
The picture of a life remains
And the high ideals and the promise
You once dressed the future in
Are dancing in the embers with the wind
Time running out time running out
For the fool still asking what his life is about
Time running out time running out
Time running out time running out
Yeah, beyond a shadow of a doubt
Time running out time running out