The old man stumbles as he sits by me
We were both athletic in our youth
Now we’re wounded by life history.
We sat in pain on plastic sloping seats
London Transport fears a crazy thief
The old man stumbles as he sits by me
Oh,I would love to sit down by the sea
And let the tide remove my tears of grief
We’re each wounded by life history.
Yet we’ve lived three times as long as Keats
The artist soul who died still in his youth
The old man stumbles as he sits by me
My granny had 10 sons but four would die
Another shot in France,oh God on high!
We’re each wounded by life history.
The genocides and wars unstructured truth
And all our ethics fled as hate ran loose
The old man stumbles as he sits by me
We wound and kill the Others as they flee
