The fields, the towns, the greyness,
I've seen them all before,
they rise up in my dullest dream,
and bore me while I snore.
The haughty men in business suits,
the drabby dames with dreary dregs
that dropped between their leather shoes
and grew between their legs.
The ancient towns with cobbled streets,
the suburbs with their lifeless gaze,
the countryside with dying sheep,
- none blessed by life's sunrays.
They talk with pride of freedoms,
they now smoke what they like,
they kill themselves now legally,
and like can marry like.
But do they know of failure,
and do they know of pain,
for if they did, would they allow
the homeless in the rain?