from the songs album Ian Anderson: The Secret Language Of Birds
Hard black crows bobbing where once ran deep furrows.
Frazzled oak silhouetted in her ivy dress.
Winter sun catches dog fox through thin hedges:
Throws his long shadow north to the emptiness.
Farmhouse in tatters; shuttered and battered.
Even lovers don't go there these last few years.
Spider-web windows on set-aside heroes
Standing lost in a landscape of tears.
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