You travel dear sir to your heart’s desire,
You forge your feelings in order to confess your lies.
A swallow, a passing wave,
Sadly, they both can’t help you feel.
Your badge worn on your heart’s sleeve;
Iron-made and steadily steeped.
Steeped in the finest brand of lies a dear sir can manifest in.
For a daughter he may never truly understand or care for.
For remorse he may never feel for his own wrong doing.
So travel dear sir,
Travel to your heart’s desire.