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