upon a time, in the midst of social chaos, there was born
a moment of Pleasure. It sprang from the hearts of a
generation called Love. It leapt, danced and sang all the
songs of Spring that had lain dormant for hundreds of
years. Like the Phoenix resurrected from its own ashes
the Pleasure spread itself over the land and filled the
air with sweet music. The Mother's face watched over all
from atop the highest hill. While the Father paraded his
radiant smile from morning till night. In the evening
when darkness filled the sky there appeared overhead the
dancing of stars, and the Lady Diana protected one and
pleasure appeared only when winter did
all would make ready, to Chipping they came
trades and their crafts and their laughter they'd ferry
under the Oaks all would make merry.
when we remember all that's gone by
stop to surrender to each lullaby
left for distances unknown and untried
some souls, we sowed, on these hills to
while we dreamed, this song of time flew
all of infinity and back again, new.
through all this time we protected this Pleasure
our noses at those who came closest
ending our home, and taking our
sadly, a feeling so deadly came creeping
wooed and seduced us to sleep by its side.
fooled us and told us this sorrow was fleeting
Pleasure knew better and saw that it lied.
so, to sleep in this pleasure went
no one knew or attended it
only knew an emptiness
filled with outside brews
dance and song and trade they made
paid with heavy dues.
accused each other for things they knew not
while they sat in disarray this Pleasure cried above.
not forsake what brought us ' round
let it fall from off this ground. "
we ask of everyone, a plea
open your hearts your feelings set free.
harbor your sadness its up to us all
your strength and answer this call.
stand in the background and cry out in fear
is our village that proudly stood here?
is the laughter that danced through our tears
are the Oaks that have grown here for years.
it's sorrow you feel that I've laid all around
know how you'll feel if this pleasure falls down.
hack it, and drag it and blow it around
bash it and mash it, 'til Nothing is
in the Hearts, of all the good folks
came here to "Chipping, Under The Oaks ."
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