this is a place
where gossip spreads
where the neighbours are angry
and where cobwebs sweep the top of your head
this is a place
in permanent autumn
with the yellowing crops
the farmer has forgotten
this is a place
with one pub too many
too many drunkards
and bets placed with pennies
this is a place
where nobody lives
the postman gets lost
and we give up on gifts
this is a place
where i cannot find peace
in a deafening silence
and the honking of geese
this is a place
where friends do not visit
the cost of cars repaired
and “it’s not worth it, is it?”
this is a place
i long to escape
but where would i go?
these roots sunk in deep,
this place is a prison
this kingdom of field
and the world half asleep
(i yield, i yield, i yield)
this is a place
i try to tempt you to be
like a siren on the rocks
it’s too late for me.