Where does the futility in hope lay?
To waste our time on foolish dreams,
To see it die away?
I guess I’ve fallen astray–
Oh, how the wicked one schemes!
Hope is a dying word
Bought out by dilemma and strife
(What a debt we have incurred!)
To hear its cry and not have stirred
To hope we all have rife.
The funeral’s held tomorrow,
And who shall be invited?
All the lover’s sorrow,
All the words left borrowed,
And Despair should be delighted.