Shapes of things before my eyes

They teach me to despise

Will time make man more wise?



Here beneath my lonely frame

My eyes just hurt my brain

But will it seem the same?



(Come tomorrow), will I be older

(Come tomorrow), maybe a soldier

(Come tomorrow), will I be bolder than today



Now the trees are almost green

But will they still be seen

When time and tide have been?



Boy into your passing hands

Please don't destroy these lands

Don't make them desert sands



(Come tomorrow), will I be older

(Come tomorrow), maybe a soldier

(Come tomorrow), will I be bolder than today



Boy into your passing hands

Please don't destroy these lands

Don't make them desert sands