Paroles 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 The trail was laid too slow behind me To face the call of fame Or make a drunkard's name for me Though now this better 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 by the sand Cliffs and a military band Blew an air of normality