And when all
Is silent on the Northern front,
Why does the bugle play
And why do the flags wave
Are we all just,
Stupid fucking leaves
Floating down the river
Or is there any
Boatman...er person,
Amongst us
Rowing themself to safety
And stability and progress
And behind whom we may
Take cover and drive
It won't be our journey, no
But we won't be leaves, pushed
Around, we will be
Leaves who can choose
The boat to follow.
Then I ask,
Why are we,
Not boats, I mean
Why am I not
Leading, driving, rowing
Towards this bank
And the next
I may not know the destination
But I do know my up from down
My North from South
The West from East.
Allow me
To be your boat,
The lovely leaf of you
Let's get to the bank
Hand, in hand.
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