And Yet

This town, this stain on the sunrise

Disguised in the mist, this morning.

It's 8 am, a seagull shouts

A sailor's warning, this sky.

This bend in the river

Slows down and delivers me

The tide rolls back

And all my memories fade to black.

And yet,

And yet…

I'm back

This town has a strange magnetic pull

Like a homing signal in your skull

And you sail by the stars of the hemisphere

Wondering how in the hell did you end up here?

It's like an underground river or a hidden stream

That flows through your head and haunts your dream

And you stuffed those dreams in this canvas sack

And there's nothing round here that the wide world lacks.

And yet,

And yet…

You're back

Some night I'd lie on the deck and I'd stare

At the turning of the stars

Those constellations hanging up there

From the cables and the rigging

I wonder if she saw the same or managed to recall my name

Why would she ever think of me, some boy she loved who fled to sea?

And why waste time debating

Whether she'd be waiting for the likes of me?

So you drift into port with the scum of the seas

To the dance halls and the brothels where you took your ease!

And the ship's left the dock, but you're half past caring

And you haven't got a clue whose bed you’re sharing.

And your head's like a hammer on a bulkhead door

And it feels like somebody might have broken your jaw

And there's bloodstains and glass all over the floor

And you swear to god ye'll drink no more.

And yet,

And yet…

In truth

It's too late to find her

Too late to remind her at some garden gate

Where a servant tells me I should wait

And perhaps a door's slammed in my face

My head must be in outer space.

And yet,

And yet

Before the sun has set

Before the sea there may be something else

That's waiting for the likes of me.