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The Middle Ages

from Growing Wild by scruffian

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We set sail across the sea,
The spray salting our hair,
Now we're leaving from the quay,
Breathing cold and clear sea air.

Sails beating and frayed,
Sprayed by salt and sun,
How I wish that I had stayed,
But they pull us ever on.

Our sails billows and flap,
Across the rigging and the ropes,
But we're heading for a trap,
And we have lost all hope.

The middles ages hang,
A noose around my neck,
My thick skin bled and stang,
As they lay me on the deck,
The blood in my ear rang,
This yoke across my back
The bells they scream and clang,
As they tie me to the rack.

This ship will pitch and list,
We're running from the law,
And slowly we will drift,
Until we run ashore.

They made me walk the plank,
And fall through a trap door,
Down and down and down I sank,
Until I rest on the sea shore.

Waves swell and break,
We're stranded on the rocks,
When they shake me away,
I am standing in the dock.

I'm standing on the gallows now,
With a noose around my neck,
I'm thrashing in the shallows,
My feet above the deck,
The end is drawing ever near,
Bells ringing in my ears,
They're tolling out loud and clear,
At the fall of the year.

The dogs are snapping at our heels,
An army that will never stop,
We're running cross the open fields
And heading for the mountain tops.

A hundred years hence,
When our children look back,
What will they have left,
To remember us by?

And what will they make,
of the things we destroyed?
The fields we left waste,
So we could play with our toys?

Now we're growing ever old,
And our memories leak,
What we don't forget now,
Will be gone in our dreams.

This paper will rot,
These photos will fade,
Data corrupts,
And paintings decay.

These bodies they will rot,
Beauty will fade,
Knowledge corrupts,
And wealth will decay.

So spare no thought,
For pounds, shillings or pence,
Everything you've been taught,
Doesn't make sense,
This will all be set at nought,
A hundred years hence.


from Growing Wild, released December 25, 2015


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scruffian England, UK

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