Raged out black nights in the dull.
Not a soul, but a gull.
The streets are empty, so’s the hall.
Still, only the valley calls my skull.
In the valley where’s death all time.
In the valley where happens all crime.
Not a shilling, not bold dime.
There’s I’m sitting with my old rhyme.
There’s a valley in every town.
Every decade I faced down.
At the times when no one’s around.
I’ve had no times someone’s around.
Travelled along with my loneliness.
Travelled as counts of continents.
But never, I found a lonely nest.
That calls me home, not the loneliest.
Raged out black nights in the cold.
Peaceful houses, none’s for sold.
Calling dead valleys, none’s to hold.
Decades of rhymes tell, I’m too old.