And Yet

This town, this stain on the sunrise Disguised in the mist this morning It's 8 a.m., a seagull shouts a sailor's warning This sky, this bend in the river Slows down and delivers me, the tide rolls black And all my memories fade to black And yet, and yet I'm back This town has a strange magnetic pull Like homing signal in your skull And you sail by the stars of the hemisphere Wondering how in the hell did you end up here? It's like an underground river, or hidden stream That flows through your head, and haunts your dreams And you stuffed those dreams in this canvas sack And there's nothing round here that the world lacks And yet, and yet you're back Some nights I'd lie on the deck, and I'd stare at the turning of the stars Those constellations hanging up there from the cables and the rigging I'd wonder if she saw the same, or managed to recall my name Why would she ever think of me? Some boy she loved who fled to sea? And why waste time debating whether she'd be waiting for the likes of me? So yet drift into port with the scum of the seas To the dance halls and the brothels where you took your ease And the ship's left the dock, but you're half past caring And you haven't got a clue whose bed you're sharing And your head's like a hammer on a bulkhead door And it feels like somebody might have broken your jaw And there's bloodstains and glass all over the floor And you swear to God ye'll drink no more And yet, and yet In truth, it's too late to find her Too late to remind her at some garden gate Where a servant tells me I should wait And perhaps a door's slammed in my face My head must be in outer space And yet, and yet Before the sun has set Before the sea There may be something else that's waiting for the likes of me This town, this stain on the sunrise