We didn't have too many chairs
I was listening toVan Morrison's
Instrumental song Scandinavia
The children were laughing
At my attempts to write lyrics
I wasn't too good with words
Even less useful with beat and rhythm
I am sat at my desk
The office is full of workstations
I am listening to the air conditioning
And the abject absence of camaraderie
The bosses are all crying
At our failed attempts to make profits
I was never too good with the money
Even less capable with the deceit
I will walk out on the salt marshes
I know there to be a bench on the path
I will listen to the breeze and the birdsong
As they capture the precise present moments
The tourists choose to be joyful and mindful
Interested with my attempts at description
I was never too good with the knowledge
Yet I am ever more trustful, of the feelings
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