This foreign place is mostly now broken
Exhaustion on the faces of the women and children
And me? I can't tell you what I've seen.
Fools and politicians don't remember why we're here
And every blade of grass is gently now praying
That we will be the last sons who will be saying...
"But at least we're not the guys who we're all leaving behind
On the beaches and in the streets as the last thing that the enemy saw in his sights
And at least we shall be known as the buttress to the
Savages with ideology of hate as their only guide
This is not their time
This was not their time
THIS WAS NOT THEIR TIME!"
Will she recognise me?
Will I recognise myself?
In this place, here in my home where everything has changed
Some things still remain the same...
Still remain the same
Still remain the same
Each and every day, week and year. My dear.
The distraction of toil
Our way outta this hole
Memories recalibrate as they tend to do
Broken projections, don't leave them behind
The past is set in gold, and gold is hard to find
Your presence, my Love, soothes my nerves
Every blade of grass is gently now swaying
Homeward now, where I'll be staying