1950

Cold, cold 1950 A year from now I'll be away A year from now you'll hear from me Chin under the water in the darkest time I'll cut through country, country bound With foot in mouth before the town With looks of shadow and of cloud And looking back be damned Just underneath the line of visible Before I'm found and cast to hell When minutes turn to months and kill My hopes of coming home I'll have a life somewhere, I know I'll have a life somewhere, I know Look, down this hole Will I stay Will they capture Look, down this hole Will I stay Will they capture Look, down this hole Will I stay Will they capture