|
Run laughing towards the serpent's jaws, where England meets the sea |
|
Breathe in the old dreams of the dead that travel on the winds |
|
A taste of salt, of love, of things left unsaid, undone |
|
A face like sunlight that burns my eyes and my soul |
|
That haunts and comforts, whispers of what could have been |
|
In broken days that lie beneath a broken tree |
|
I call to no one or to the gods, who never reply |
|
The years that have melted away, and a future like a sickness waits to destroy |
|
I will drown in the blood of summer |
