So typical — a battle of wits
And I’ve come half prepared
I know all the ropes
But I 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
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 bottle scars 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 three then I sail to sea
I just got to eight
When you started to say
I’ll bid you farewell
I’m going, going
Gone