at the dockside

[fledgist]

we go to meet

the losing side

nowhere to hide

the river's fleet

 

time has in tow

all our desire

so tell the choir

how much you know

 

out from the port

no ship departs

the while our hearts

each hope distorts

 

choices are made

visions described

policemen bribed

that is the trade

 

so when we learn

just how to speak

in the antique

manner you yearn

 

to see us grasp

all of your pride

held well inside

falls from your grasp

 

what is said true

within these walls

nobody calls

honest or new

 

nothing but old

rumours and lies

that we despise

pass here for gold