There are many madmen

Stumbling in these streets

Mumbling madness

Their eyes don’t see

For their lack of wits,

Please don’t berate them

Turn a kindly eye

Suppress that angry sigh

Many are the sick

afflicted with this

For them

There is no bed

No doctor

No cure

Cretins and fools,

No rest for the weary

Week kneed, they raise their palms

Mouthing pleas that would split the seas

And dash their heads against every love kissed wall

Crying out time and again: Woe is me!

Disheveled, unkempt wretches

Won’t someone turn an eye to them

Let some mercy descend

Poor and destitute, desperate

Loaded down with sin

They have wandered

there and back again

Worn out their shoes

and planted blisters in their skin

They have climbed Kilimanjaro

And plumbed the depths of the seas

Flung themselves in the jaws of death

Still

no relief

The seeds of despair

have been planted in their fields

And been choked by weeds

Hope sits above the sun

She bade them come:

crawl, or walk, or run

Still they come

Still their feet bleed

Stumbling, still they hold out their hands

Weep

Tears streaming down their cheeks

Beards wet

Tears streaming down their cheeks

This is how the oceans meet

This how the rivers greet

Water & more water

O grief ! You endless sea