In the air, Eternity was vapid
Mourning of blessed passions does not impart
the blasphemous thirst which does calm rapid
Without reach, each mind wearied as each heart
In the air, Eternity was vapid

As it's known, Autumn does not turn to Spring
The tree of excuses ripens and spreads
as a silence that's sung most alluring
Souvenirs made from the pall of a dread
As it's known, Autumn does not turn to Spring

Weep by the hour but never do we cry
as we stumble with a sloth of words
The joyless sing and the tired hopeless try
all around us but we are flightless birds
Weep by the hour but never do we cry

Summon Antigone to guide us on
for we are more blind than her father damned
Although naked, these are the airs we don
Summon Antigone to guide us on
for we are more bling than her father damned


                                              -Dylan Wahl

                                               copyright 1997