There's a window in the wall
And the light from afar cascades
To play the pattern of its panes on the floor

There's a boy in the room
Tired, pondering the gloom
And the light dappled concrete before him

There's a bust by the sill
Plain and worn but regal still
The tempting, lithe visage of Venus

By and by he'll stray into that light covered patch
Wrapping his hands 'round the old window latch
And he'll struggle to pry muddled pane from its frame
Schemes of escape from the gray box of gloom
To the beckoning glow past the glass

But he can't budge the latch
So lame and ashamed he'll retreat to the floor
by the bust and the patch
He looks to the East at the source of the blaze
And he waits

O Venus! O breaker of men and the downfall of civilization!
I should like to escape from my lone, empty walls
And stroll through your lush and ornate emerald halls

But until then I wait
And I look to the East

There's a word we call hope on my lips