In the deepest copse of all Shadow lies
The darkest desires t'which they gave rise
The prideful child, foolish in folly
the self-indulgent lost to melancholy
With a heavy heart, and a heaving sigh
Shadow is left to us, the few, the wise
But the dark leaves rustle for those who listen
Our time runs short, our egos threaten sedition
Tis' shame and fear which makes them dance
heedless to prudence or the changing winds
Tis' fear which sets their rhythm restless
I fear as well, for life is left to chance
"Tis' a die cast," he says, "who dares wins"
Ambition errs not to sense, but to senselessness
