| Voyages and sea forests. deep blue and rusty |
| Sew ém in a satchel, 'n leave ém at your door |
| People lives, people lives, they fascinate me |
| All my life, all my life I wanted to understand |
| There´s a man on the corner with the moon in his eyes |
| He just comes here to visit and he wears a disguise |
| Wonder if he´s looking for friends or for the truth |
| I think he´s calling for some in that telephone booth |
| And the smiling woman answers, she defeats fear with her eyes |
| She thinks life´s fine so of course I think she´s wise |
| And my heart wants to give her a gift that´s so grand |
| That it will speak for me and say just where I stand |
| I stand on a pillar, i´ts melting like ice |
| Of years that I´ve lived and some I´ve lived twice |
| And I have all these feathers and leaves on my floor |
| That I don´t want just blowing around lose anymore |
| I feel a need to gather, to rummage and fetch |
| To shake out my life and give it a stretch |
| To bring shells to the surface and give them to you |
| Gifts from the sea floor, rusty and blue |
| These two lives hold my attention quiete well |
| You see lives almost never run parallel |
| Like the boards in the flooring all deep grained and worn |
| Fated and fitted long before we were born |
| People lives, people lives, they fascinate me |
| All my life, all my life I wanted to understand |