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An attempt at a traditional ballad. The speaker is wondering how he managed to dream away his life and let love and friendship languish… when he was young he dreamed of the future, then he tried to forget his distracted ways and get on with life. Now, his dreams are plagued by the past and by what he has lost or failed to grasp. He fights to control a swell of ideas: of himself, of time, and of mortality.

oh woe is me my story told
I missed my chance and now grow old
A wilting weed with bog-deep roots
Sat stony cold and dreaming

I cast my eyes to ages gone
When days were clear and time was young
And blind to age and pain and dumb
Stood boldly strong and dreaming

Oh it passed before I grapped its tail
It skipped me by and made to sail
Too busy I to chase the gale
Too busy for my dreaming

And my friends took to life with sense
Kept all their wits about them
While sleepless I stayed up to stop
My head from goin a dreaming

But softly it came over me
Her footsteps leaving over sea
And sadness went back home with me
To perforate my dreaming

I’ll drink my sup and have my say
For tomorrow is another day
I’ll argue with the stony clay
And fall into my dreaming

I’ll say once more to clear the air
That time has stolen all my share
A love I left with foolish care
I see only when dreaming

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