Four Ignoble Truths
The wind picks up on the eastern seaboard And thick, dredge, rain beats down on our harbour towns It will rip and tear it's way through the bowels of the country While we hide in our bunkers and on warm barstools But we will weather this storm together And raze our fears in the floods And through this reductive novella I have tried to outline Our decline As I see it In terms of Self-preservation And communication In our own introversions And ending And in the depths of the tempest We could bind Some new ragged standard To sail behind And in the depths of the tempest We will build These soaked timber bastions Against the wind And in the depths of the tempest We could find Moments of calm To hide inside
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