Karine Polwart Medusa
Can you hear the shuffle of boots? old men in polyester suits ties like regimental colours flying
who they are I do not know I just watch them row upon row every single one of them is crying
they are marching along the old dirt tracks looking up ahead and never looking back scared they'll catch the eye of some Medusa
here they are now one two three four and five and more and many six and seven, eight and nine here they come in a long long line count a dozen count a score there might be a hundred more
Can you hear the clatter of boots? kids and packs and khaki suits and ragged regimental colours flying
swallowed whole by the cold steel rain just a little fresh bood in the serpents manes (?) and its a sharp shrill whistle call to attack and theyre running up ahead and theyre never coming back caught right in the eye of some medusa
here they are now one two three four and five and more and many six and seven, eight and nine here they come in a long long line count a dozen count a score there might be a hundred more
Can you hear the sidewalks clicking and the telephones bulling and the clocks all ticking and raining still on the embers no one cares, no one remembers names like footsteps chiselled in stone row upon row
here they are now one two three four and five and more and many six and seven, eight and nine here they come in a long long line count a dozen count the score there might be a hundred more
