The Man With No Country R. Leschen © (4 September 2006)

I kneeled down beside your cold skin of stone, my eyes had wandered to our old country home,

I see radio lights and rain-colored dreams, the man with no country is down on his knees.

I was walking on clouds with the greatest of ease, my shoulders in chains and my thoughts on a leash,

The neighbours don’t know they don’t bother to ask, if the man with no country has a dream or a past.

I once had my freedom and once had my strength, held my head way up high to see over the fence,

Along the 5^th shore through the rubble and sand, walks a man with no country with his pain in his hands.

I started to breath at the coming of spring, like harpsichord strings you can hear every key,

Caregiver please hold me and never let go, this man with no country is weary and old.

In the black of my mind I see heavens delights, the twin bells are ringing in the quartz-colored night,

I remember my love and what you gave me, the man with no country is beginning to see.