The Strings of Phoebus Do Not Sing
The strings of Phoebus do not sing
And bond of love is useless thing
The bread men need the bread men eat
And Muses murdered with the greed.
We see the dreams and our dreams
are filled with everlasting screams
here is the gnome here is the elf,
Who cares? I guess men want the wealth.
When everything is dust, and wind
takes out the past for sake of fiend
Satyr with flute prepares show,
He sold himself, he knows the "law".
And Phoebus doesn't play, he's fat,
He needs the bread he eats the bread,
Sings out of tune there is no sense
I think it's sadly dear friends.
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