Letra de Exiles

Now...in this faraway land Strange...that the palms of my hands Should be damp with expectancy Spring...and the air's turning mild City lights...and the glimpse of a child Of the alleyway infantry Friends...do they know what I mean Rain...and the gathering green Of an afternoon out-of-town But lord I had to go My trail was laid too slow behind me To face the call of fame Or make a drunkard's name for me Though now this other life Has brought a different understanding And from these endless days Shall come a broader sympathy And though I count the hours To be alone's no injury... My home...was a place near the sand