The morning star   Has long since gone   The sun is high   In the sky      Shadowless   A figure stands   Stranded on Venus sands      Up in the blue   And circling   The seabirds watch and wait   For movement   Of a certain kind   Down on their dinner plate      Where children   Played a flower lays   Pulled and torn up   By its roots   And where it stood   The empty space   Just screams      Down on the flats   Baby turtles race   For safety on the big deep   And white caps come   Crashing in   Indifferent to tender flesh   Shriek of attack   Then moving   In a raucous clash   A gourmet din   Of cruel gull   Beaks and tearing skin   Screaming   Lit by the evening star at Venus sands   Against a blood orange sky   There's a shadow   Of a figure prone   Abandoned and all alone   Venus sands