Here

Here we lay etched upon the grass The sun rained down in broken rays Seared to smudges, fried-onion brass The colour that will haunt our days Here we stood carved into a tree Wobbly letters at the ends of a spear Driven through a heart doomed to be The lodestone of every shattered tear Here we sailed forth in a cockel-shell Round the world, round and back again Here the ocean sounded its old knell Whirled us back into the old pain