Текст песни Dead Poet (live performance) - Ivory Fool

People go on passing
They go on passing against the spires of the church
The streamers of my consciousness weaver out
And are perpetually torn and distressed by their disorder
That is the mean, that is the average
I am conscious of flux, of disorder
Of annihilation and despair
If this is all, this is worthless
Yet I feel too, the rhythm, eddying in and out, round and round
In and out, round and round at the right time
Where then is the break in this continuity?
What the fissure through which one sees disaster?
The circle is unbroken
The harmony complete
Here is the central rhythm
Here the common mainspring
I watch it expand, contract, and then expand again
I, who desire above all things to be taken to the arms with love
Am alien, external
I, who would wish to feel close over me
The protective waves of the ordinary
Catch with the tail of my eye some far horizon
To me is addressed the plaint of the wandering and distracted spirit
You, all of you, ignore it
What the dead poet said, you have forgotten