Lost Boys Calling

Come, hold me now

I am not gone

I would not leave you here alone

In this dead calm

Beneath the waves

I can still hear those lost boys calling

You could not speak

You were afraid

To take the risk of being left again

And so you tipped your hat

And waved and then

You turned back up the gangway

Of that steel tomb again

And on Mott Street in July

When I hear those seabirds cry

I hold the child

The child in the man

The child that we leave behind

We left them there

When they were young

The men were gone until the west was won

And now there's nothing left but time to kill

You never took us fishing, dad

And now you never will

And on Mott Street in July

When I hear those seabirds cry

I hold the child

The child in the man

The child that we leave behind