There Will Be Time

I grow old, I grow old
I have lingered
I have breathed so much air
So much it seems stale
Human voices murmuring
Saying lies and things I've already heard
Gravity casting all its weight at me
Mountains grasping for all the dew
They've seen it come and go
They've heard my empty, hollow, hapless bellow

I grow old, I grow old
I have lingered
Bridges high above, crossing rivers and devices
Passengers atop forget they still need it
I see them blank and shrewd
A complacent, helpless, hungry fold
Smoking, breathing deep, the pale, thin fire
Pacifying and cursing, coursing through their brittle, stagnant veins
The poisoned rose, its graceful chains

I grow old, I grow old
I have lingered
Hair pushing through my battered chin
Grey, I no longer strive to keep within
I am angry, bitter, jaded, wasted
But not enough to chase it
I've seen too much to believe in man
I've seen their empty promised land
Truth thrown through stained glass walls
Chained upon the whipping post and raped
Left to rot in a gutter of saintly urine
Hope left choking in a pious, wretched pool

I grow old, I grow old
I have lingered
I am waiting for the sun
Standing, falling, bruised and broken
Splinters blinding my only eye
Staring at the distant, selfish mountain
Us both waiting for the sun
Someday, someday
I know He'll come
I'll stay here starving
Even if I'm the only one
Even if the mountain crumbles
Gathering my last, rattling breath into my feeble lung
Dying with hope held tight, still pulled close to my neck
Just before He finally comes
The breaking of the mourning sun