( RE Broughton )
Sitting,laughing at the mindless humanoids
croaking in their swarm
While recalling Omar Khayyam
How we changed there in the holy sun high on
holding hands
The pilot crashed with Rupert Brooke they blew
together fast on other levels
He spoke, softly, opened by the wine
A father pushing fear and looking for redemption
Someone hurry he thought as the waves rolled
their way through concentration
It's all too much he seemed to want to say but
could not make the necessary juncture
How he loved lady by my sideRococo lady,
daughter of the African the westernized
He is searching for whole to be in to make himself
How we changed there in the holy sun high on
holding on
You,you might be different I can see it in your eyes
You,you might be something I can read it in
your sign