Lake Bras D'or

There is a path by

Lake Bras d'

OrI never go there anymore

It's not the same, since you and

IThe path is narrow, over-grown

The few that thread there, thread alone

A patch of land,

I call my own

I planted seeds, some have grown

But ****s have choked the few remains

My crop has withered in the sun

Doomed before it had begun

I thought

I read the writing on the wall

Turned out that it was just a bit of scrawl

I walked along, tasting my defeat -

There was a time when what was writ

Seemed to me clear, and full of wit

There is a path by

Lake Bras d'

OrI never go there anymore

It's not the same, since you and

IThe path is narrow, over-grown

The few that thread there, thread alone