There is a path by the sea
Where foam would spill over the wall
And over the way with soundless crash
Bringing with it pebbles and sand and breeze
Dusk would fall behind the horizon,
The pale face of the moon
Would adorn the waves
Of a clear black ocean
The path remains
But the nights are gone
Streetlights pollute the way
And walls keep back the foam
And off the shore, illuminated
Stands a farm of silent pale giants.
Industrial omens, spinning their arms in the wind
It\'s for our good we\'re told. Yes but so was the view.