I was baptized in fire
Got cooled down in the water
I was raised among liars
And tattooed by pens of the restless reporters

I've been crumpling that paper
By the rusty typewriter
Modern day Diogenes
I rambled the streets with a cigarette lighter


But I still try
To sneak through the hole in the fence
To the woods in the pale moon light
So horrified
I'm still searching for paw prints of the one
that has once burned bright
The Blake’s Tyger

I'm the echoing depots
Housing old locomotives
I'm the dust from the sawmills
A remnant, a trace of the yesterdays forests

In this world without borders
So depressivly hopeless
I'm still searching for wisdom 'tween
Old writers and poets

But I still try
To sneak through the hole in the fence
To the woods in the pale moon light
So horrified
I'm still searching for paw prints of the one
that has once burned bright
The Blake’s…

Tyger, Tyger burning bright
In the forest of the night
Who's immortal hand or eye
Could frame that frightful symmetry