09 Jul 2010
It flew back via Paris with me
And bought a cup of coffee, light and sweet
I thought about the traces of my traveling
About spending what was given to me
He must have known how it would end
For smashing people’s gods is not a way of making friends
And I don’t mind the tale of roses, fire and fish
If the story’s told while someone’s listening
He struck the dust with his heel
Water streamed, the desert bore sunflowers and wheat
Now the acqueducts stretch on for miles beside the road
And the dams into the distance as far as I can see
There will come a day and it won’t be long
When things that now are permanent will be gone
Empires crack and crumble, deserts turn to seas
What I’ve given will come back in a song