And I once lived a life of such youthful poverty:
A life where bewonderment was prohibited.
And it ain’t the dosh,
And it ain’t the cost,
And it ain’t the loss that really guts my guys.
Those ropes that once tied me to you in bonds
Of extraordinary thought,
Which lie frayed now and tearing like tears
So down my face:
So much we have sought and loosened mad and
So much we have bought and questioned
Not at all;
So much of this long haul: how it’s savaged
Both our sides.
Time surely now to make real
Time to look to a future
Of culture and suture.
Time to look to a repairing
Time simply to express this grand sorrow
You must share with me.
And then – wow! –
Redress the insane, where the holes unfixed