T’ was the age of reason the height of mankind, colossal cathedrals broke through the sky,
The poor scrapers work an artisan’s wage, courts have their music and Dante his fame.
An organ man wishin’ for love foregone, he pleases the crowds who’ve gathered and gone,
Gypsies are working the ladies and gents while the organ man drains thoughts from their heads.
Back to the front of the margins of time, I can’t help a wonderin’ about the heart and the mind,
According to theories predicted in books, in Dante’s Cathedral the visions are true.
A shaft from the window brightens the hall, cluttered with icons and tidings for all,
And up on the ceiling we strain to believe, Michelangelo teases the world to see.
The olives and figs on Tuscany thrive, bearing fruits for autumnal wives,
Lovers hand promise to the Lord of the Street, the Lord of the Street shall be grateful and free.
Over the hill where the Po River flows, a monument proves humanities grow,
Farther below the organ man sings, restorin’ spirit to Palladian dreams.
‘T was the dawn of reason the rise of mankind, he whittled the mountains with a rational mind,
From rubble he carved soap-colored stone, and the music lives on in an organ man’s song.
OTAGOLANDS 