|
Sailing on the sea, it's teal, your meal was alright |
|
But not the captain's voice, it made me shake and squirm |
|
Not in what you hear, but feel, surreally thrust between |
|
What accents mean and what you think they should |
|
And I'm not talking 'bout just being a mile up in the air |
|
And I'm not talking down to people who are living there |
|
But stateside at the quay, you fear the nearness of that |
|
Auld familiar distance between everyone and you |
|
The distance keeps us safe from waves of subcutaneous problems |
|
That our governments and our accents and our parents have us swimming in until all that sin has soaked us through and through and through and through and through |
|
And I'm not talking to the people who've been in jail |
|
And I'm not talking 'bout just wanting to belong somewhere |
|
And let's not talk about the color of your eyes or your hair |
|
I'm talking 'bout, talking 'bout the color of the sea from way up there |
