Auf Kiel
Subway To Sally
Laid Up
I’ve laid my boat up on the keel,
secured it by the book.
I’ve swept the sea from the hull,
took the wind from its sails,
broke the oars and the sword,
let all the burdens go,
it’s resting firm and carefree,
so firm and carefree.
Only sometimes, when the south wind blows
and wild wanderlust runs through me
like terrifying storms,
then I long for the sea again.
Laid up my boat on the keel,
the planks will soon rot,
the rats have long since left,
and all the anchors dropped.
My boat is stuck and won’t set sail,
it’s stuck and won’t set sail.
Only sometimes, when the south wind blows
and wild wanderlust runs through me
like terrifying storms,
then I long for the sea again.
A storm is brewing, I stand on deck,
the sea air tastes like rain,
the sky reaches out its hands,
I brace myself against it.
Only sometimes, when the south wind blows
and wild wanderlust runs through me
like terrifying storms.
Only sometimes, when the south wind blows
and wild wanderlust runs through me
like terrifying storms,
then I long for the sea again.
