Cold, in the sun,
From the mountain snow
The well is dry
With frozen water
Word to the wise,
When this city stands
Before its mouth
And listens,
No one hears their name
I never knew you
And never will
The door is closed
The pages are full
Better be sure
You're a wise and great man,
You're on your own
And will be
For a long, long time
In my head
Are the fruits
Of your labors
In my head
Are the fruits
Of your labors
Your labors
That failed my mind, body, and soul
Your labors
That failed my mind, body, and soul