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