Some men spend a lifetime in the hope they can devise A chart which will an able man then someday analyze The wretched men who stumble then somehow cannot arise They'll pay one man to draw the charts another to declare What secret signs are in the lines but do they really care That one is long and one is short and one line is not there For charts or abstract documents that cannot have a soul They cannot tell why this man fell and that one reached his goal Nor can they tell why some rebel and lose all self control I think a thousand years from now as it was long ago Two roads will be for all to see but which way will man go Will he arise toward the skies to reach for some new plateau Will he devise a brave new world a world thus far unknown Will he plow under all the seeds of greed and hate he sewn Or will he steal the very field he plants his hopes upon As long as there are two such roads a man can look upon As long as some men linger deep within the twilight zone The weak will always take the road that leads to wall of stone There should be made a stone blockade torn from the prison stone And make a wall across all roads man should not walk upon And let the seeds of bitter weeds grow till that road is gone Then those who sot in higher power those who hold the might Could then direct the hordes of men on to the way that's right And then the men who draw the charts would also see the light
