Of not to fall of not a good place to roll
Lift the latch the iron catch of the back door
Step out skip off the stone floor imprisoned no more
Run across the yard sprint across the yard
Instinctively open the five-bar gate wait
Look across at the hens and the sycamore tree
Turn and trip slip into the edge of the field
Yield yourself to the sting bring tears to your eyes
Despise that odd-shaped misplaced stone go home
To the dock-leaf cure be sure to rub long and hard
Cards on the table you had been a naughty boy
The joy of the morning all taken the early awakening
No longer now special the feral life
Is not for everyone the love is going the love
Is gone shone out onto someone other
An older or a younger brother or your mother
Or a lover such things as you did not yet know about
The shout to stop you screaming the dream
That life could ever be so innocent
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