Shapes of Things by Jeff Beck

Shapes of things before my eyes
Just help me to despise
Will time make men more wise?

Here, within my lonely frame
My eyes just hurt my brain
Will time make men more sane?

Come tomorrow, will I be older?
Come tomorrow, maybe a soldier
(Now listen)
Come tomorrow, maybe I'm older than today

(Listen to this)
Here within my lonely frame
My eyes just hurt my goddamn brain
Will time make men more sane?

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