I used to search with my eyes and mind
Searching for a different kind
Of reason that would always be
Autumn, Spring and Summer to me;
To fill in all my splintered rights
And turn all my wrongs to right;
And change the never changing ways
Of people, who just spend their days
In search of some reality
That only falling eyes can see
And when it seems that all was lost
I turned their heads to Pentecoast
Point them to the Golden Fleece
And all the things, it does release;
Break off all the chains that bind
Free them from their disillusioned minds

The contracts of my youth expire
And drag me through an ageing mire
I stand alone before the chair;
The Council are expected there
The organ-grinder. In the streets plays
Plays to my funeral suite
The prosecution, just with lies
Tears up all my alibis
The defence alone seems to exist
Upon my life being an ageing risk
And my learned friends I say to you
The point them to the Golden Fleece
And all the things, it does release;
Break off all the chains that bind;
Free them from their disillusioned minds

Between the walls of dark despair
Where Fountains weep and gargoyle's stare
I claim the right to have my say
In my life's ever changing way
Time has cost its darkest role
In taking back the years I stole