Antonia Two

Who can ever say, we’ll toast our bones, after we've been away, the picture's not bright, we can cry but won’t, home is not kind, thoughts betrayed, where we come from, nothing on display, in this lilac night, with hardly a sound, there’s no gentle sky, maybe we'll take a train, like a winter's stove, warms us to dream, a horizon blind, we navigate alone, seeking what’s right, a line on my face, says carry on, everyone in our game, stands their round.