Из альбома: In Camera
In my youth, I played at trains: now all steam is gone
In my dreams, brief shelter from the rain
I try to catch the fireglow…
With Dinky Toys, I thought that I was Stirling
With cricket bat, I saw myself as Peter May;
Now, with all these images returning
I wonder who I am today?
As a child, I refought the war
With plastic planes and imagination:
I sank Tirpitz, blew up the Mohne dam, all these and more
I was the saviour of the Nation!
Oh! To be the captain of a ship of war!
The pilot of a Tempest or a York!
To hold my trench against the Panzer Korps
Instead of simply being one who talks
And reminisces of his fantasies
As though life was nothing but to lose…
These only antecede the knowledge that, eventually
He must choose
It’s a hallmark of adulthood
That our options diminish
As our faculties for choice increase
Till we choose everything and nothing
Too late, at the finish
In my youth, I held belief: my faith and thought were strong
But now I’m stripped of every leaf
And it robs me of the sight of right and wrong
Oh! To be the son of Che Guevara!
One unit in the serried ranks of black!
A Papist or an Orangeman, a eunuch…
Then doubt would never cast the dagger in my back
Oh! To be King John or Douglas Bader
Humphrey Bogart or Victor Mature!
Which one is false and easy
Which one harder?
Of that
Of this
Of me
I’m really not too sure