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