The foreigner with a murky past
Here for more than several months
A hero, an agent-provocateur, an agitator
One of us.
And, although furnished with mouths & gift-horses
We looked, but never asked
We should've felt his pained expression
We should've seen his pounding heart.
In the midst of a media circus we dallied
And now he is about to go
But we all kept our silence, muffled voices and gobs
And now we will never know
"Keano: Why did you take the Ipswich job?"