|
So typical - a battle of wits |
|
And I've come half prepared |
|
I know all the ropes |
|
But haven't a hope |
|
Of pulling you back to me |
|
I'm losing my grip |
|
And sailing this ship |
|
From barstool to Borstal and back |
|
CHORUS |
|
You made me feel I was born again |
|
It's a shame I never grew up again |
|
I'm a boy at sea |
|
And I'm stowaway scared |
|
Scared that my friends see |
|
The man amongst the many |
|
Now bottlescars are all that I have |
|
To show the boys back home |
|
Who'd said that to plead |
|
Was a sign of the weak |
|
And to fight was a sign |
|
Of the strong |
|
Just fairweather words |
|
From four-letter friends |
|
But I found out |
|
The four-letter way |
|
You made me feel I was born again |
|
It's a shame I never grew up again |
|
I'm a boy at sea |
|
And I'm stowaway scared |
|
Scared that my friends see |
|
The man amongst the many |
|
And now I've swallowed my pride |
|
I promise you I |
|
Couldn't eat another word |
|
I'll count to 3 then I sail to sea |
|
I just got to 8 |
|
When you started to say |
|
I'll bid you farewell |
|
I'm going, going, gone |
