Lyrics to contemplate, part 2

[motcid!marble!meadley@uunet.UU.NET (A. Meadley)]

	When you look at me
	From your own century
	I may seem to be 
	Strange archeology
	But when the winds blow
	From this direction
	You may sense me there
	In your reflection
	I think I feel you
	But I will never know
	As the swallows leave
	And the children grow

	.
	.
	.

	As I think of you
	From this dark century
	It will always be
	With generosity
	That we both may share
	The hope in hearing
	That we're not just
	Spirits disappearing

	by Roy Harper

Ant in Chicago.