Tragedy of a Romantic

They tell me of the chaos, 

I see them struggling through.

They pull me to be a-part,

I ask them to let me work it through.

I tell them of those banks,

Where the fish swim in queue; 

In colours of green and pink; 

Atop the sky silver-blue.

They tell me of the New World, 

And the ongoing hullabaloo. 

I tell them to wait for the Spring 

When the lilies would be in bloom.

Let’s go see those banks, 

Let’s see the sky blue,

Before the world goes down the abyss, 

For we shall be carried there too. 

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