Shapes Of Things by Scorpions
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?
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