The remnants of a myth
torn like sodden paper
A worker in the world of words
now where are your opus lines
where does your gilded poetry reside
A hooded figure
cloaked by Pessall Brook
looking for lighthouses
searching for the sea

O, how did you go
this far wrong?

Show me your pages
blackened with rhymes
your songs of tides
and ships to far away islands
Thunder clapping above
rain apocalyptic from all sides
now you tarry in the dirt
along the banks of Pessall Brook
Building your ocean liner
at Coton In The Elms…

O, how did you go
this far wrong?