Lovely Years

How lovely was the “twinkling” music of old?
The rather small and few glass figurines of youth.
Emotions pour down like the forest rain.
Nostalgic and frightful is the morning rain.

Thundering and lightning is of God’s judgements
And those of others.
There is no need to wind up the music box.
No need to wind up the clock.

Is there an answer to the lost memories
Of the reason to be lost?
To find better memories to fill the void
And to sweep away the static of terrible memories.

Has it been mentioned?
That depression is
Like a dog without a home.
It will keep coming back for more.

To dance to a finer tune,
The song of the people.
Oh, future, where are you?
God has answered a long time ago.

How lovely are the years of youth?
They’re refined and dined like fine wine.
Until death,
Every last drop counts
Like hairs on the head.

God,
Everyone is lovely.
This time is cut so short.
Could there be a few more years?
To dance to the song of the people.

God,
Everyone is lovely.
Maybe the dog is barking.
To go insane is not unlikely.

To have a warm heart is easy.
To end up with a cold heart is hard.
Sleep the dreamless night.
We’re here to sleep.

Come here, Sandman.
Give them a dream.
Make them the loveliest that was ever seen.
Give them lips to say,
“This dream is over.”