|Lead me to the transitory Eden,
Where no one dies young, and flowers burst in their ebullient prime,
A prime so ethereal and sublime, so evanescently doomed.
If, in these coming days you wish to see them in their bloom,
Come back earlier, come back yesterday.
No wonderment have I ever beheld, that didn't slip away,
And no happiness have I ever known, that time did not efface.
The children sang songs of life, walked the Earth in a drunken
Those fugitive sounds, they faded away, they turned white to grey,
You're my only hope, come back Yesterday...
A transient flight of chimerical whim,
A passing fancy to fill my dearth, years ago, I believed in Earth.
A burning light in a darkened house, I questioned everything.
Who could be like sunshine through the trees?
Never questioning, passing into yesterday...
I've known dead summer and living winter,
Drying June flowers and ideas coming to fruition in Yule.
I've seen death in spring, and birth in the fall, do I know them
Do the flowers know the death before, or the death after?
Do they ever know Yesterday?
My youth was but a fleeting dream,
Flashing before bright brown eyes, a felicitous land of Cockaigne.
If there was a need, it was satisfied, if there a pain, it was
I see these places in my head, deep in my lucid state,
Yet they're the property of Yesterday...
My life's been a book of blank pages,
Filling up with prosaic prose and pointless passages.
I cannot correct anything that is written, for I am writing it now.
Days when the sun came around and nothing changed,
Time was surely passing, into yesterday...
Now I must leave, Eden is dead,
O! Precious witness to my existence, will you remember?
Days of the golden sunsets that lead into tomorrow's endless rain?
Could you ever prove their existence? Tell me now for the time's
It's past midnight, and I am Yesterday....