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The fickle promises of tomorrow that hold us back from living today |
Tomorrow, thou dost betray me For thou hast delivered sweet lies From bowls inlaid with jade and silver They bore such a pleasant disguise Of no use are treasures deceased From land's most fortuitous seas Thy schooner awaits thee in vain And gratuitous mischance remains I pray thee, do search upon soil Would that our fair Providence guide To find where she buried Tomorrow Perhaps in that trench deep and wide? Tomorrow hath fled my fair home Whilst yesterday drank of my tea Her absence, a hasty betrayal I thought that she might comfort me But nay, 'tis the hour to know Of her trivial, coquettish ways A fickle friend's frivolous thirst Hath led her to leave me ablaze Go thee, yesterday, I insisted My humor is no longer twisted For I know whilst her lust persisted Tomorrow ne'er truly existed |