Andrew Gill (1956 – 2020)

Blinkered, paralysed
Flat on my back
They say our world is built endeavor
That every man is for himself
Wealth is for the one that wants it
Paradise, if you can earn it
History is the reason
I’m washed up
Blinkered, paralysed
Flat on my back
My ambitions come to nothing
What I wanted now just seems a waste of time
I can’t make out what has gone wrong
I was good at what I did
The crows come home to roost
And I’m the dupe

Thank you, Andy. Hvala.

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