Drilling

This is us on a western Atlantic coast:

With no place to be, just taking in the sea

Tonight with a constant buzz

Staring at the ocean crashing

On all the rocks below

In this foreign home

This old story:

When we're gone I feel I'd never miss anyone

You lay in the grass along the edge

"Is this a dream?"

You ask, and I don't say anything

Because it may be a dream

And we come to this place

Like two convicts that have escaped

From the prison of everyday

And for the moment we have our stay

You tomorrow comes like disease to us

From the cliff's edge, gulls fly below us

Diving into the sea below us

And I'm not cold tonight beside you

And we're not cold tonight

This old story:

When we're gone I feel I'd never miss anyone

This old story:

Expatriate, you're coming home