| I’m peering through the wiper blades, the headlights blurred in driving rain
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| On the inky dusk of midnight blue, the black ships blow across the sky
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| The south-coast towns awash with ghosts and sailors tales and icy spray
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| And men gone off to foreign wars to stand beneath the tattered flags
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| Cast a wish and wish for far away
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| The statue stands in weathered stone gazing into the winter storms
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| Waiting for the unreturned
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| And I go this way alone and I’m happy to be here
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| The back roads run with gushing streams, fallen branches, blown leaves
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| I stood there in the graveyard lost beneath the dripping trees
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| The past it is a barren place of men condemned by their own hand
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| And all those faded possibilities
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| The shipwrecks lie in silence as the fish swim through sunken rooms
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| At the bottom of the sea, at the bottom of the sea
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| And I go this way alone and I’m happy to be here
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| Out beyond the neon mist and on into the deluge
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| Oblivion and darkness rushing in
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| For everything I’ve ever touched turned out to be so fragile
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| Crushed like shells beneath the shingle and the shifting sands
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| All of the strength that I have is bound in with the raging storms
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| Blowing out to sea
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| And I go this way alone and I’m happy to be here |