Sitting on the quay,
I don’t know where I’ll be.
Do I possess the key?
Is this life for free?
When the days are long,
And winter’s gone,
What will I do next time around,
When we’re homeward bound?
I hear my favourite music:
Will people think I’m sick,
Or do they realise,
The sun’s course in the skies,
After it has run its course,
To bring another day,
Of love and hate?
I will no longer stay,
In this town, in this state.
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