Somewhere near central London

I imagine not so far from Trafalgar Square

and the lions

There lives an older gentleman

who teas with BBC and Britain's ghost

His lady companion by his side.

Oh yes, I see him now.



And cross the deep blue sea

I cannot smell

Inside a symphony

the "Pastorale".



So besides the black rats swimming

I watch the English evening skies

reflect my heart

As I walk behind him,

Looking for what's been lost

Like looking over all the trees

of Hampstead Heath

now before us in the twilight.

No, I can't bear it now.



And cross the deep blue sea

I cannot smell

Inside a symphony

the "Pastorale".



A jacket and hat...the only trace...

Two gold rings...

But never fades.



A jacket and hat...the only trace

Two gold rings...

But never fades...

A face....