no matter that the cap's been set askew
there is no better story we could tell
about the way our honest vision grew
out of cold pain to fill the broken shell
healing the ill that you could not dispel
for all your efforts since there was no way
to break the walls or give the soul full play
we reach the bounds and have no better terms
than these old worn words no more than cliché
you might as well give up and feed the worms
we watch as grey has come to rule the blue
there's nothing here against which to rebel
just the old order just the normal due
course of the world which we cannot compel
to alter for our will there is no spell
that folk of magic could use to allay
these ordinary fears which still betray
just what we are old time alone confirms
that it can do its will and have its say
you might as well give up and feed the worms
after the rain we hope to see the new
growth that will rise the blossoms that will swell
once more in the bright garden to show true
that all things in the end shall come out well
so that on painful matters we won't dwell
and not look at the fossils under clay
the ancient dead in their solid array
since he who looks is also he who squirms
at thought of what lies just beyond decay
you might as well give up and feed the worms
prince your approach is all the gift we pray
knowing how well we count on what you say
beneath your wisdom are the least of germs
unable to resist the force of day
you might as well give up and feed the worms