So I mourn for the dead, though they cannot hear my cries
What good is it unnoticed, what good is it to try
From that fear of cold and darkness, when imagined in that grave
Give power to restrain the injustice of mankind
The fortune of others, as I conceive
Not just the virtuous, or humane
However selfish that I may seem
Derive his sorrow
Though at ease I cannot feel his pain, imagination puts me in his place
The stroke is aimed (I shrink back) upon his arm
The beggar on the street, ulcers and sores
On the slackrope (I twist) the dancer writhes
Only conception
Yet enough to cause me that unease, the robust and feeble feel it too
To share the amusement of a book or a poem
And to enter in their sentiments just as if they were our own
The mortification when we jest and no one joins
Feels so instantaneous that it cannot be self-love
The stroke is aimed upon his arm
The beggar on the street, ulcers and sores
On the slackrope the dancer writhes
Only conception
Though at ease I cannot feel his pain, imagination puts me in his place
Yet enough to cause me that unease, the robust and feeble feel it too
The Benevolent Dictators - Fellow-Feeling Lyrics
The Benevolent Dictators - Fellow-Feeling Lyrics
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So I mourn for the dead, though they cannot hear my cries
What good is it unnoticed, what good is it to try
From that fear of cold and darkness, when imagined in that grave
Give power to restrain the injustice of mankind
The fortune of others, as I conceive
Not just the virtuous, or humane
However selfish that I may seem
Derive his sorrow
Though at ease I cannot feel his pain, imagination puts me in his place
The stroke is aimed (I shrink back) upon his arm
The beggar on the street, ulcers and sores
On the slackrope (I twist) the dancer writhes
Only conception
Yet enough to cause me that unease, the robust and feeble feel it too
To share the amusement of a book or a poem
And to enter in their sentiments just as if they were our own
The mortification when we jest and no one joins
Feels so instantaneous that it cannot be self-love
The stroke is aimed upon his arm
The beggar on the street, ulcers and sores
On the slackrope the dancer writhes
Only conception
Though at ease I cannot feel his pain, imagination puts me in his place
Yet enough to cause me that unease, the robust and feeble feel it too
What good is it unnoticed, what good is it to try
From that fear of cold and darkness, when imagined in that grave
Give power to restrain the injustice of mankind
The fortune of others, as I conceive
Not just the virtuous, or humane
However selfish that I may seem
Derive his sorrow
Though at ease I cannot feel his pain, imagination puts me in his place
The stroke is aimed (I shrink back) upon his arm
The beggar on the street, ulcers and sores
On the slackrope (I twist) the dancer writhes
Only conception
Yet enough to cause me that unease, the robust and feeble feel it too
To share the amusement of a book or a poem
And to enter in their sentiments just as if they were our own
The mortification when we jest and no one joins
Feels so instantaneous that it cannot be self-love
The stroke is aimed upon his arm
The beggar on the street, ulcers and sores
On the slackrope the dancer writhes
Only conception
Though at ease I cannot feel his pain, imagination puts me in his place
Yet enough to cause me that unease, the robust and feeble feel it too
Writer: The Benevolent Dictators
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid