Written by: J. Beck



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 heard 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.



Chorus



Soon I hope that I will find,

Thoughts deep within my mind.

That won't displace my kind