History Recanted.


Toss the coin, toss it dry or wet.
On limbs of ash, alder leave grows
a head or feathered tail, no regrets.
let oceans of Byzantium dreamers flow

Burn the bridge of nonsense to the sky
Under flowing oceans fertile land
Burn the treads in orange blooming high
Let Atlantis and her rulers deal a hand

Trees of cedar burn as ancients toil
Lebanon growing strong from dusty roots
Flood the forest under desert soil
and Arcadia her filthy blood stained shoots

Break the covenant of winding wave
thus count the cost of oxygen to men
Send her soldiers to an ocean grave
to dream on reefs of Zion once again

Then oceans flow in concert with the sun
Over arid streams on arrow flights
When the fletching of the world is done
Will Camelot reclaim its brass clad Knights

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