With a thousand fears on visions face

Time has no sympathy for old men,

The walker on deserted shorelines leaving no footprint,

The parrot and the patriot no longer talk.


There are those who talk of tomorrow,

there are those who talk of the past,

then there are those who just talk.


I once knew a place called England,

England where the air was alive with hope.

Now only fear remains in a place where dreams were made.

I thank God for that place.

The tide comes in

and my footprints are washed away,

I am gone.

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