I'd just done the best work To fall into my hands for quite some time Of night oil i'd burned much Made sure both style and content were sublime So i put it forward To the public forum In anticipation of my due acclaim
And meanwhile, by contrast I'd penned a eulogy, pure workaday Just hack work, just dashed off Packed full of prolix puff and sad cliche No-one can really tell When their hand's been played out well And i don't even know How my own story goes Or if it's worth a jot
I can't see my stream
What i thought was perfect What i thought was polished No-one thought it worth much And they made that clear What i thought was worthless Merely repetition Somehow tugged the heartstrings Brought them all to tears
I can't see my stream
No-one can ever know What of their own's their very best