Remembering the day, the broken boat was not an ATA
The Atlantic salt collectors set about their searching squares
The low straight road away, against the turning tide
We raced and thought we had time to spare
But we got caught, at the end
Through the long flood
Forgetting everything
How the ash fell, as it left my hand
And the words left to the wind
They keep echoing
Memories unpaid
And sorrows yet to fade
We thought that maybe we could leave them there
But we got caught, at the end
Through the long flood
Forgetting everything
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