Take your trees to the end of the world,
Show them to that Gold Black Joe.
Tell your stories of humour woe
and visit the land where the hurled landed.
From here you can get home in 1 day they say,
travelling by oar.
The concrete ship and walls of mountain
do not strike with awe they say.
Take your trees to the end of the world
although they may not grow.
Desolate sand and no lost shadow,
Xerophytes only grow.
Above, a North-South divide,
below, a man with five minute lungs-