Smoke came to laud, fire to praise
The seed of ourselves locked in our days,
Came and went
With sentiment.
Where are those days by the river?
Where are those nights in the park?
Where are the beggar and the giver
Of the spark?
If those days hold any terror, hide it
From the world and other things;
They cannot see. If life were fairer, I'd fit
Crowns to our heads, for then we were kings.
Those were the days of smoke and fire.
And what did they cost us, Mark?
More than just desire
More than days by the river,
More than nights in the park
Where I was the beggar, you the giver,
Of the spark.
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