don't blink

alert, but inattentive

the blood of empire on our hands

aching to understand

drained

fate
never turns out quite the way
you want it to

for you

Track 01
Album - Sonnet of Separation
2007-8 

Grape Garden

Caught in despair, an appalling commencement
A farce of this condition betrays its intentions

Something ambient, everybody can sense it
A waft of indignation and rife with condescension

Taught from birth that you were the chosen descendants
A status and position divined through the centuries

Who dares wander in your rare air?
Cultivated and debonair

A misery, a vice, a gift for your heirs
A luxury supplied in guest homes with au pairs

A maid whom you describe as the mother you'd not had
A woman whose own children can’t say the same of theirs

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