Ever Livid In The Tide

I have walked out of step with my time these past few years
Or so. But I must not fall out of tune
Though streets of home are walked by the old fears
Of paleolithics praying to the moon.

Yeah, right. Still, out of tune the towns do seem to go
As land razed under rising seas till oh
Say can you feel the strangeness of the tides
At dawn, the ebb of mourning on all sides

Of your now little isle, where lions court the soul
Where the wolf skins you, parades in human pelt.
A sea-changed isle amid the miles of shoal
That scarce will life defend. So having felt

The times, I cannot think I do not feel
The preying tonguewaves of unwavering tides,
And lie in ruin in realms of the real,
With scarce less life on all sides.

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