"Drilling"
This is us on a western Atlantic coast:
With no place to be, just taking in the sea
Tonight with a constant buzz
Staring at the ocean crashing
On all the rocks below
In this foreign home
This old story:
When we're gone I feel I'd never miss anyone
You lay in the grass along the edge
"Is this a dream?"
You ask, and I don't say anything
Because it may be a dream
And we come to this place
Like two convicts that have escaped
From the prison of everyday
And for the moment we have our stay
You tomorrow comes like disease to us
From the cliff's edge, gulls fly below us
Diving into the sea below us
And I'm not cold tonight beside you
And we're not cold tonight
This old story:
When we're gone I feel I'd never miss anyone
This old story:
Expatriate, you're coming home
