Oh my dearest Desdemona,
Silence buys a lot these days,
Since my girls were overrun,
By time and his flogged horses.
In this murkwood field of dreams,
Ed, if you’re still watching,
I’m in the the the greening grass,
With my little boy and my little death,
Talking to the holes in the ground,
Footfalls that never make a sound.

Driven fierce under the fallen night,
Stepping into the echo of her crime,
Empty aisles and wilted bouquets,
Waited to be filled for days and days.
I swept that dust gently to the side,
Along with the silence of yesterday’s lies –
Days Strangely forlorn and loyal to Os,
A good man but a humbug King,
I’m still fighting for the dream of today,
Coz it’s giving it up that kills me,
For this love’s supply of violent ends,
I still hope my running out offends.