Turned out on the streets again These evictions never end I bare smile but it's pretend because The future looks bleak to me Don't know what we're gonna see There's just a faint hope in the wind
I'm sitting on Whitsand Bay I spend most days Mapping out the sun and the shade.
How lonely life can be When you can't settle or find peace When you've a map But you own no key When you've out stayed every single place No one's got the time or space You pack your things again
Packing up again Moving on again You're throwing out your deadwood again
Basques need a place The Irish need their place I need a place Everybody needs a place But when the wind blows You must up your anchor and go.