We travellers on the endless wastes in single orbits gliding
Cold-eyed march towards the dawn behind hard-weather hoods a-hiding
Meeting as the tall ships do, passing in the channel
Afraid to chance a gentle touch - afraid to make the Clasp.
In high-rise city canyons dwells the discontent of ages
On ring roads, nose to bumper crawl commuters in their cages
Cryptic signals plash across from pilots in the last lane
Double-locked and belted in - too late to make the Clasp.
Let's break the journey now on some lonely road
Sit down as strangers will, let the stress unload
Talk in confidential terms, share a dark unspoken fear
Refill the cup and drink it up. Say goodnight and wish good luck.
Synthetic chiefs with frozen smiles holding unsteady courses
Grip the reins of History, high on their battle horses
And meeting as good statesman do before the T.V. eyes of millions
Hand to hand exchange the lie - pretend to make the Clasp.