Elysian fields exist in life,
Restful pastures, verdant green.
A brief state where we're safe from strife
And troubled clouds never are seen.
In balmy seas we don't realize,
The angry, tossing storms to come.
Instead we frown and shade our eyes,
Acknowledge not the warmth of sun.
But passes by those perfect days,
To wake once more amongst the world.
Above us lour clouds of gray,
Unknownst to us, the peace is gone.