The pieces of the argument,
Destined to be left unsaid.
Frayed from hollow intent.
Let's bury them in the sea bed.
The red mist parts
and I fall apart,
when the red mist parts.
Who ever meant to be mislead?
We journeyed to the harbour.
Two steps and these old socks were wet.
Left adrift to save on labour.
The argument.
The argument
Was left
Unsaid.
The pieces of the argument
Better left unsaid.
Wasted journey to the harbour.
No breath to reach the sea bed.
The red mist parts.
That's when I start,
Before the red mist parts.
The argument.
The argument was always meant
To be unspoken and left... unsaid.
To those people who pre-empt the breaking of dawn.
The crack of light that opens a yawn.
I'm speaking to you
Not for you.
These arguments whimper
Into the martyrs last rites.
The words in the ether
Blue touch paper in flight.
We'll meet at the oak tree
and forget the storm
that poured scorn
To the temples of our first born.
But we'll still meet,
At that old oak tree.
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