Vanity Hill
from GOLDIN

In my earlier years I took women to bed
And couldn’t much care through the heat in my head—
We all tumbled down, we were grains in a mill
As we picked pretty flowers on Vanity Hill.

I painted and sang and I acted in plays
And filled up with chatter the hours of my days.
When the chance came for taking I exacted my fill
As I toyed with the flowers on Vanity Hill.

I took up religion, I shaved off my hair
I read all the books and I mumbled the prayer
But my heart could not follow the path of my will
As it picked at the flowers on Vanity Hill.

I was angry and smug, I was proud of my views—
I dabbled in politics, followed the news
And I marched with the workers (would probably still)
It was just picking flowers on Vanity Hill.

The war is now over, the enemy’s won
And they pillage the earth in the sign of the gun
Some few try to stop them. I don’t think they will.
It’s just picking flowers on Vanity Hill.

The cold winter sunlight plays on my knee
As I rummage my memory finding no me—
The man in the mirror is old and looks ill
But he’s still picking flowers on Vanity Hill.