After the Rush Hour

I am the small town linesman And you'll find me out here on the line Searching ceaselessly to simply Find a place I can call mine Every corner of this country Criss-crossed out with coloured lines The city lies before me Another city sprawling out behind I am a frontiersman Trapped in suburban England Since the Scramble ended Since the West was won with wagon trails It seems the Mazzini's paradisiacal Panopticon prevailed My walkabouts no longer take me Beyond a choice of different gaols Why should I have to choose a state When every one of them has failed? I am a frontiersman Trapped in suburban England And I promise not to overthrow the state If allowed to redraw the atlas before I emigrate So I have sailed the seven seas alone Trying to find a shore I can call home But all I found are different flags Double-speaking diplomats, and I do not have time for that So I'll declare my own sovereign state The borders based on the Bottoms of my boots And I will open embassies Wherever the hell I please And at assemblies You will see me sat But never on my knees I am a frontiersman Trapped in suburban England And I promise not to overthrow the state If allowed to redraw the atlas before I emigrate And I'd gladly leave your Metternich's alone as long as where I lay my head I can be my very own I am the Winchester lineman I am a frontiersman Trapped in suburban England But here I will not remain- I'll ride into the sunset My horse waits on the plain And I keep walking the line