Oh, the fault of man,
And its deep desire.
The undying grasp,
On what we cannot acquire.
We look at the grace with which,
The fair swan carresses the air.
And look to ourselves,
To see how little he cares.
But the swan\'s eloquence,
Comes at a cost,
For the swan must practice,
To avoid becoming lost.
The swan has done this,
year upon year.
If you\'d been here that long,
You\'d have nought to fear.