Do not punch gaily into that grave fear,

Do not punch gaily into that grave fear,
old skill should glow and pound at end of play;
blaze, blaze against the hurting of the well.
Though fair men at their end know truth is true,
Because their dreams had drawn no success they
Do not punch gaily into that grave fear,
grave men, the best dash by, crying how good
Their anxious joys might have dared in a lush gorge,
blaze, blaze against the hurting of the well.
brute men who rolled and dreamed the song in shock,
And learn, too hard, they grieved it on its way,
Do not punch gaily into that grave fear,
old men, in chains, who feel with piercing truth
cracked hearts could howl like thunder and be gay,
blaze, blaze against the hurting of the well.
And you, my wife, there on the broken ledge,
chide, grace, me now with your bright lips, I pray.
Do not punch gaily into that grave fear,
blaze, blaze against the hurting of the well.

Crunch!