And no man or woman irreplaceable there is one to take our place
And how many times have I heard said, I can’t recall that face?
I would be a stranger perhaps now where once I was well known
And many there would even say he is not one of our own
A stanger there and a migrant here is all I’ll ever be
The tree brought and transplanted from afar is not a native tree.
The past forever is the past though some try to hide their years
In hair dyes and cosmetic surgery and when the ageing wrinkles appear
They rush off to their plastic surgeon for more plastic surgery
They are not short of money so they can afford his fee.
I’m just another ageing migrant from a Country far away
And in this wide brown Southern Land I am growing old and gray
A migrant here and a stranger there is all I now would be
And nothing ever stays the same or so ‘twould seem to me.