The Works Of Unknowns (Horton’s Summer Of ’80 Mix)

Have to read patiently
Books from past centuries
Books of those rarely seen
Hidden for ages
Painted walls, protraits drawn of great empires and royal lawns
Tapestries in banquet halls
Vanished from memory

Now there's nothing left to be shown
The works of unknowns

I divide, multiply
Write what I learn and why
Lecture to younger minds
With sense and reason
I devise formulas with chemical and minerals
Ponder life through telescopes
And question one's purpose

Now there's nothing left to be shown
The works of unknowns

Have to be commonly known as one family
Lengthy geneologies of who came before us
Branches of family trees drawn by those after these
Pages, proper histories, lived then forgotten