As I squeeze into the busy train each morning
And stare out of the window at the sky
I wonder as we pull out of the station
Is there another life to live before I die?
And so I fantasise on ships and seas and sailing
Of the crying of the seagulls on the pier
Is it the calling of the ocean that has moved me
Or just an listless longing to be anywhere but here?
Could I spend my days by some Canadian harbourside
With the salty breezes blowing in my face?
Are we bound to always dream of walking someone else's road
To look for happiness in some far distant place?
My hands are not the strong hands of a sailor
Not tanned and tough from hauling at the lines
But perhaps the windswept heart of every person on the sea
Was once a frail and timid one like mine
I am not, I fear, cut out to be a fisherman
I will not run off to sea, but even so
I will still stare out of windows and imagine
And sing songs about a life I'll never know
Could I spend my days by some Canadian harbourside
With the salty breezes blowing in my face?
Are we bound to always dream of walking someone else's road
To look for happiness in some far distant place?
Heave away, haul away
Heave away, haul away
Could I spend my days by some Canadian harbourside
With the salty breezes blowing in my face?
Are we bound to always dream of walking someone else's road
To look for happiness in some far distant place?
