Our world is doing fine. My last hope is that with my death I
may pass into the world of my dream, and know peace at last. There is
unrest in the Forest. There is trouble in the Forest, and the creatures
all have fled, as the Maples scream 'Oppression!' and the Oaks, just
shake their heads. We've taken care of everything, the words you read,
the songs you sing, the pictures that give pleasure to your eye. It's
really just a question of your honesty. Instead of praise, sullen
dismissal. What can this thing be that I found?
As a mad immortal man, nevermore shall I return, escape these
caves of ice, for I have dined on honey dew and drunk the milk of
Paradise. Off on your way, hit the open road. Time and Man alone
searching for the lost - Xanadu - to stand within The Pleasure Dome. I
can't wait to share this new wonder. Living in the Limelight the
universal dream for those who wish to seem. Race back to the farm to
dream with my uncle at the fireside... Let them all make their own
music. I had no idea what it might be, but it was beautiful.
Jump to the ground as the Turbo slows to cross the borderline.
An oracle confronts me there. Begin the day with a friendly voice. Now
there's no more Oak oppression for they passed a noble law, and the
trees are all kept equal by hatchet, axe, and saw... These things just
can't be true. Go screaming through the valley as another joins the
chase. Always hopeful, yet discontent, he knows changes aren't permanent
- but change is. I have always been awed by them, to think that every
single facet of every life is regulated and directed from within!
Just think of what my life might be in a world like I have seen.
A thousand years have come and gone but time has passed me by. Father
Brown rose to his feet, and his somnolent voice echoed throughout the
silent Temple Hall. The trouble with the Maples (and they're quite
convinced they're right), they say the Oaks are just too lofty and they
grab up all the light. I see still the incredible beauty of the
sculptured cities, and the pure spirit of man revealed in the lives and
works of this world. Clearly yet I see the beckoning hand of the oracle
as he stood at the summit of the staircase. No, his mind is not for rent
to any god or government. Subdivisions - in the high school halls, in
the shopping malls, conform or be cast out.
My spirits are low. In the depths of despair, my lifeblood
spills over... See how it sings like a sad heart and joyously screams
out its pain. Well-weathered leather, hot metal and oil, the scented
country air. Home to tear the Temples down. Home to change. We have no
need for ancient ways. There is magic at your fingers for the Spirit
ever lingers dndemanding contact on your happy solitude. I saw now how
meaningless life had become with the loss of all these things... To find
the sacred river Alph, to walk the caves of ice.