Shapes of Things

Shapes of things before my eyes They teach me to despise Will time make man more wise? Here beneath my lonely frame My eyes just hurt my brain But they don't seem the same? Come tomorrow will I be older Come tomorrow maybe a soldier Come tomorrow will I be bolder than today Now the trees are almost green But will they still be seen When time and tide have been? Boy into these passing hands Please don't destroy these lands Don't make them desert sands Come tomorrow will I be older Come tomorrow maybe a soldier Come tomorrow will I be bolder than today Boy into these passing hands Please don't destroy these lands Don't make them desert sands