Trickeling down, trickeling down, the ice trickelesever down;Freezing the flames of youthWho tread on aging ground. They bear the songs but do not dance, consumethe fuel but do not burn,Eagerly they eat upon this adament gem,Too late their lessons learned. Monolithic worker bees, entombed in concretehives;Taking more then is their need,Living monotonous lives. Must we reign the horse who longs to grazein unfenced pastures?Upon imagination flowers grow,Where spirits roam uncaptured.
