Walkin on Air

Empty Wind

Then someone said inside my head,
We got a chain you down;
we'll milk your thoughts and steal your mind
and keep you outta town;
out of sight, out of mind perfect is for you:
after all, it is a fact consultancy is what you do.

In solitude of bookish shelves
I sat in Tara-tree-house high
surrounded by some dusty elves
where Pride of Life is scarce and scant;
like camels crawl on bleeding knee
through Needle's Eye for trade,
where merchants tear their Sabbath pants
and self-righteous preachers hold to see
mirrored image in lust charade,
they imagine to have me secure
whence to gaze their gilded gander.

Ha! Like I will wait for them, they presume;
perchance might they fantasy avail?
Right, and God his judgment will rescind
from such as other's labor consume
but pay not wages? Surely shall they bewail
their final lot and reap the empty wind:
don't you see my dear, I'm no longer here.


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Empty Wind

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