And Yet

This town, this stain on the sunrise

Disguised in the mist this morning

It's 8 a.m., a seagull shouts a sailor's warning

This sky, this bend in the river

Slows down and delivers me, the tide rolls black

And all my memories fade to black

And yet, and yet I'm back

This town has a strange magnetic pull

Like 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 hidden stream

That flows through your head, and haunts your dreams

And you stuffed those dreams in this canvas sack

And there's nothing round here that the world lacks

And yet, and yet you're back

Some nights 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'd 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 yet 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

This town, this stain on the sunrise