England Rolls Away - John Smith

I woke up in an alleyway

In Liverpool the ship of fools was sinking

As I rose up from the depths

I stumbled down the road a ways

Found London in a haze of weary violence

It is hard to get my rest

In looking for the best of her

Well I have seen the worst she’s had to offer

But there’s nothing I’ll not keep

England

Blood on the thorn of an English rose

I gather belongings, travelling clothes

Now slowly drifting out of London Bridge

It could be a year

It could be ten

Until she begs me back again

And all my miles are measured in an inch

Every fear that’s taken over

This wide-eyed waking, rambling rover

Has grown within the heart that is my home

England!

In-ger-land!

England rolls away