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Make Peace With The Pigs

 

Perched precariously on the precipice of time

at a crossroads of life with wilderness all around

I peer back from whence I came, I made no mistake

and I examine the path and the time I was raped.

I had hoped in my dreams that the path became green

as I had cared and nurtured it and it rose in esteem

but, no, I had failed where I thought I had won

my work not yet finished but I was shot with a gun.

 

And where to now? is the question that’s asked

the reason for continuance on this rugged path

or should I say “fuck you” and walk on my own

I can do it for all time, I’ve already shown.

Shunned before I’ll be ambushed again

by bastards of people who just hate good men

but life is too short to worry for them

I think they’re all spineless so “good luck to them”.

 

So here is my way through the desert ahead

to a land where I go to make my own bed

I’ll fight for my rights, I’ll struggle tooth and nail

against Tories and Liberals and bastards as well.

I’ve got nothing to prove for what’s gone before

I won’t sulk for long and I won’t be a whore

I’ll veer to the left and take a new street

and make peace with the cows, the sheep, and the pigs.

 

April 12 2002

Shiplake  to Henley