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School (a sonnet) (Ode) by Nicholas Jones

Cold eyes, dark tiring journeys now and then The fields rang out for we who could not know All that was around, but stiil we knew when A thing is real and not made just for show. We learnt so little; but our damaged minds Fought on, of course, we understood our fate: To think was to resist, to think and find That we were helped along by purer hate. They burnt our dreams and told us not to dream. But still we disobeyed to fight our lot We did not know how to their side it seemed Alive, aware, we knew what they did not: Dark scenes in corridors where children died, Cruel actions of a system fuelled by lies.

Bachus 15-Jan-03/11:58 PM
As a silly american i can't help but get a strong david gilmour roger waters vibe here...beautiful...Nick what's your special month and thing to do on your birth day, and is there any one in particular you spend your time with?




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