Donovan Leitch
the land of doesn t have to be
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There is a land not far from the ears of sound
The eyes of sight can't see
It's over the trees
You'll be there by tomorrow's breeze
Few people get there quick
By their chosen road
They don't know it quicker to go
By natural velocity
There is a wall of doubt surrounding
Everything that's there
Children fair, they ride there
On the dreamy mare
And at the great big gate
Waiters wait
They must fill the form, denounce the norm
They are torn, twixt praise and scorn
And in the dawning dawn
Yawners yawn
Not knowing they've been or they've seen
What they've seen or never seen