Swifts do not guard their time; they do not linger. When they come
back from Africa, we are happy. I was told to go back to Africa. The sea,
that stupid slate wedge, sparks with such beauty. I feel lonely. A car goes past,
Swifts do not guard their time; they do not linger. When they come
back from Africa, we are happy. I was told to go back to Africa. The sea,
that stupid slate wedge, sparks with such beauty. I feel lonely. A car goes past,