We may rue the hew of bitter sword
that is the anger we occasionally allow
to bruise our memory's weft and turn
with crimson stabs of quickened fury

Yet while the willing face of killing rage tears
at the ragged fraying arcs that are our souls
we stand atop the blackest summit of our ire
and scream mindless defiance at the world

A farmers work aint easy
It’s an ‘ard and lonely life
I never gets to town much
So its ‘ard to find a wife
I’m up at dawn most every morn
A milking an’ a feeding
Then afternoons I’m in the fields
A ‘oeing an’ a weeding
So when the sun goes down at night
The working day be done
I’ll go down to the sheep pen
Just to pick a pretty one
They sees me in my wellies
And they all begin to bleat
They knows that I am there to give,
Some special girl a treat

Let me breathe in your life,
live in your heart forever
Bathe in your soul and feed on your love

Take me away from this dark desolate world,
free me from these bonds, that strangle my limbs,
that tear my flesh

Lead me,
beyond this darkness
Lead me,
into your light

Teach me to walk and I shall find my way to you
Teach me to speak and I shall only speak of our love
Teach me to hear, so that I may listen to the beating of your heart

I sit in the dark, as far off
the scent of Waratah wafts
reminding me of you,

my mouth curves
a memory, as my face tilts
the moon, her red veils
run up my chest

faraway down the road
we may meet again
across a canyon of time,

our eyes will connect

I often wonder what yours
will dare tell me,
at the first dawning
will a ray of remembrance
burst through your iris

or will our words of anger
sour every glance,
turning those blue eyes
opaque