The fishing boats
go out across the
evening water
Smuggling guns and
arms across the
Spanish border
The wind whips up
the waves so loud
The ghost moon sails
among the clouds
Turns the rifles into
silver on the border
On my wall the
colours of the maps
are running
From Africa the winds
they talk of
changes coming
The torches flare up
in the night
The hand that sets
the farms alight has
spread the word to
those who're waiting
on the border
In the village where
I grew up nothing
seems the same
Still you never see
the change from
day to day
And no-one notices
the customs slip away
Late last night
the rain was knocking
at my window
I moved across
the darkened room
and in the lampglow
I thought I saw down
in the street the spirit
of the century telling us
that we're all standing
on the border
In the islands where
I grew up nothing
seems the same
It's just the patterns
that remain
An empty shell
But there's a
strangeness in the air
you feel too well
The fishing boats
go out across the
evening water
Smuggling guns and
arms across the
Spanish border
The wind whips up
the waves so loud
The ghost moon sails
among the clouds
Turns the rifles into
silver on the border
On the border
On the border
On the border