Shapes of Things - Rush

Shapes of things before my eyes

Just teach me to despise

Will time make men more wise?

Here within my lonely frame

My eyes just hurt my brain

But will it seem the same?

Come tomorrow, will I be older?

Come tomorrow, may be a soldier

Come tomorrow, may I be bolder than today?

Now the trees are almost green

But will they still be seen?

When time and tide have been

Fall into your passing hands

Please don’t destroy these lands

Don’t make them desert sands

Soon I hope that I will find

Thoughts deep within my mind

That won’t disgrace my kind