|
Cousins |
|
Maybe you think, a lot like me |
|
Of those who live beside the sea |
|
Who feel so free, so I surmise |
|
With their comfortable homes and wives |
|
Who end up drinking tea together |
|
In the afternoon of their lives. |
|
They build their homes upon the seashore |
|
The quicksand castles of their dreams |
|
Yet take no notice of the North wind |
|
Which tears their buildings at the seams. |
|
In their dismay and blind confusion |
|
The weeping widows clutch their shawls |
|
While as the sea mist ever deepens |
|
The sailors hear the sirens' calls. |
|
And in the maelstrom sea which follows |
|
The lifeboat sinks without a trace |
|
And yet there still remain survivors |
|
To bear the shame of their disgrace. |
|
Last night I lay in bed and held myself |
|
Trying to remember how it once was with you |
|
How your hands were softer. |
|
Yesterday I found myself staring into space |
|
Rather like the sailor in my own home surroundings |
|
I'm not sure I know me. |
|
If you were me, what would you do ? |
|
Don't tell me I don't need you to |
|
It won't help me now. |
|
If you were me, what would you do ? |
|
Don't tell me I don't need you to |
|
It won't help me now. |
