In the dark dungeon , imprisoned , the princess waits
The prince rode up the tortuous fleet in hurried steps
Many a frightening dragon had he slayed
The monotonous drone read on ,as the child wept .
'Mother sing me the lullaby of the galloping men
And the thousand Spanish fleet who fought in vain
Of the old lady who died alone on the moon
Of how the generous king succumbed to his deleterious bane.
Forgotten be the cold white December and the scarlet may
Sing me a lore of the hundred dead men with no one to weep
Of the crimson silhouette of the bloodiest day
And the boring libretto playing again and again.
The zephyr rings the happy swansong of the nightingales no more
As weed grows around, and the arboretum is dead
As discombobulated , the dead men lay
With only the hovering hungry ravens to prey.
Dark are the days of the thousand splendid suns,
Of the Ugly Duckling and the Hunchback of Notre Dame,
So sing me the song of the renegade damsel,
And prurient lust craving men , sybaritic and lame.
Sing no more of how the Messiah gave
Tell me the story of when Judas betrayed
Tell me a story of what is true
Of what transpires in men’s world ,of me and you.'
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