When the band has played the last set
and the glasses sit empty uncollected
and the drinkers all be gone and dry
and the factories stand all silent,
the dark towns vacant and still,
their pavements broken and weedy,
late trains toppled on their sides
and the rails left loose and rusted,
small lives will claim again the day
and nights belong to moon and owls
and old oaks grow on untended graves
and there will be peace on Earth.
Thanks to David Longley for the photo.