[bad word] laughing towards the serpent's jaws, where England meets the sea 
Breathe in the old dreams of the dead that travel on the winds 
taste of salt, of love, of things left unsaid, undone 
face like sunlight that burns my eyes and my soul 
That haunts [bad word]  whispers of what could have been 
In broken days that lie beneath a broken tree 
I call to no one or to the gods, who never reply 
The years that have melted away, and a future like a sickness waits to destroy 
I will drown in the blood of summer