Some men spend a lifetime in the hope they can devise   A chart which will an able man then someday analyze   The wretched men who stumble then somehow cannot arise   They'll pay one man to draw the charts another to declare   What secret signs are in the lines but do they really care   That one is long and one is short and one line is not there   For charts or abstract documents that cannot have a soul   They cannot tell why this man fell and that one reached his goal   Nor can they tell why some rebel and lose all self control   I think a thousand years from now as it was long ago   Two roads will be for all to see but which way will man go   Will he arise toward the skies to reach for some new plateau   Will he devise a brave new world a world thus far unknown   Will he plow under all the seeds of greed and hate he sewn   Or will he steal the very field he plants his hopes upon   As long as there are two such roads a man can look upon   As long as some men linger deep within the twilight zone   The weak will always take the road that leads to wall of stone   There should be made a stone blockade torn from the prison stone   And make a wall across all roads man should not walk upon   And let the seeds of bitter weeds grow till that road is gone   Then those who sot in higher power those who hold the might   Could then direct the hordes of men on to the way that's right   And then the men who draw the charts would also see the light