| In a momentary lapse of my condition
|
| That sent me tumbling down into a deep despair
|
| Lost and dazed so I had no real recollection
|
| Until the rain cleared the air
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| When you wake to find that everything has left you
|
| And the clothes you wear belong to someone else
|
| See your shadow chasing off towards the shoreline
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| Drifting into emptiness
|
| There are bullrushes outside my window
|
| And their leaves whisper words in the breeze
|
| Well tomorrow I’ll walk to the harbour
|
| And catch the first boat that’s coming in
|
| I’ll catch the first boat that’s coming in
|
| Like a child too small to reach the front door handle
|
| Or maybe just too scared to know what I would find
|
| Now I feel I’m strong enough to take a slow ride
|
| Now knowing when I will arrive
|
| There are bullrushes outside my window
|
| And their leaves whisper words in the breeze
|
| Well tomorrow I’ll walk to the harbour
|
| And catch the first boat that’s coming in
|
| I’ll catch the first boat that’s coming in
|
| I do believe I’m going home
|
| 'Cos I don’t call this place my own
|
| I’m missing what I had, happy times and sad
|
| More than I ever thought could be
|
| Not knowing when I will arrive
|
| There are bullrushes outside my window
|
| And their leaves whisper words in the breeze
|
| Well tomorrow I’ll walk to the harbour
|
| And catch the first boat that’s coming in
|
| I’ll catch the first boat that’s coming in
|
| I’ll catch the first boat that’s coming in |