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Futility Lyrics - Singles - Dark Reality

Move him into the sun - 

Gently its touch awoke him once, 

At home, whispering of fields unsown. 

Always it woke him, even in France, 

Until this morning and this snow. 

If anything might rouse him now 

The kind old sun will know. 

 

Think how it wakes the seeds, - 

Woke, once, the clays of a cold star. 

Are limbs, so dear-achieved, are sides 

Full-nerved - still warm - 

Too hard to stir? 

Was it for this the clay grew tall? 

- O what made fatuous sunbeams toil 

To break earth's sleep at all? 

 

[Text: Wilfread Owen (1893-1918) / Music: Kailer]