At end, when it is too late br to start anew. br br When every chance to fly br lies like dead birds in your rear view br br It was not out of love br nor any childhood dream br br That we ran, ignoring every wonder br of life only to wind up here br br By accident, and looking up to see br in the vaguely familiar face br of a stranger br br every soulful longing of home br since we, last, left it br br A sense of familiarity br running behind me as I left br br Saying, 'Here, is your coat br you will catch cold' br br Life is nothing more than this br a walk around the block when you were seven br br At first wonder, and then the drudgery br of again and evermore...