A life of deposed disposition
An end to the Spanish
Or any other, inquisition
You had been the pretty girl
But, at least for now
It seems you have gone walkabout
I had been the dashing young man
But, at least for now
It seems other matters occupy me
Wherever tenderness was
There is tenderness no more
Such apparitions from a distant shore
We do not let it go
Though neither
Do we hang on
Our dear life
Is for that other life
Which rather speedily approaches
