We travellers on the endless wastes in single orbit, gliding
Cold-eyed march towards the dawn, behind hard-weather hoods a-hiding.
Meeting as the tall ships do, passing in the channel
Afraid to chance a gentle touch, afraid to make the clasp.

In high rise cirt canyon dwells the discontent of ages.
On ring rose, nose to bumper crawl.
Commuters in their cages.
Criptic signal flash across, from pilots in the fast lane
Double locked and belted in, too late to make the clasp.

Let's break a journey now on some lonely road
Sit down as strangers will, let the stress unload.
Talk in confidential term, share a dark unspoken fear.
Refill the cup and drink it up.
Say good night and wish good luck.

Synthetic chiefs with frozen smiles holding unsteady courses
Grip the reins of history, high on their battle horses.
Meeting as good statesmen do before the TV eyes of millions
Hand to hand exchange the lie, pretend to make the clasp.