What manner of land
Are we set upon? Do we stand upon?
Everywhere lay riches
And the air is filled with song

Leisure in the garden before exile
And if it's all a dream
Then let us sleep a while

Would you rather return
To labor in vain?
Black factories and coal mines
To a city's endless rain?

In the shade of the yew tree
The viper's kiss
Embraced by the furies
What manner of bliss?