The Ballad of the Adventurers

Sickened by sun
With rainstorms lashing him rotten
A looted wreath crowning his tangled hair
Every moment of his youth apart
From it's dream was forgotten
Gone the roof overhead
But the sky was always there

Oh you, who are flung out
Alike from heaven and from Hades
You murderers who've been so bitterly repaid
Why did you part from the mothers
Who nursed you as babies
It was peaceful and you slept
And there you stayed

Still he explores and rakes
The absinthe green oceans
Though his mother has given him up for lost
Grinning and cursing with a few
Odd tears of contrition
Always in search of that land
Where life seems best

Loafing through hells and
Flocked through paradises
Calm and grinning, with a vanishing face
At times he still dreams of
A small field he recognises
With a blue sky overhead and nothing else