Droning, droning
On and on the wheel spins
The cog races in its circuit
When will the end be?
When quiet is the victor
And laughter turns its face to fools
Dream on; it will come
Questions, questions
Complaints, complaints
Through and through rotten all
The squirrel finds empty acorns
What will the end be?
What ceaseless brightness pervades
And Love outshines the twinkling stars
Dream on; it will come
Raging, raging
Hiding, hiding
By and by a war brews
The blackout beckons confusion
How will the end be?
How the death does breathe its last
And smoke desists for purity
Dream on; it will come
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