Sanoja: Maritime. Call Me Home.

Before we wrote the bible there were honest men
Dressed like horses and their hands like satin
And somewhere in the skies where all the ballads go
When singers are tired and leave their homes

But we are continental drifters by design
We've got no more money laying down the line
So there's no distraction, no useless action, there's no time
There's no water damage

Call me home
I might answer

The old country's disasterous
After us
There is nothing left to wear that could flatter us
And all our vices fight for themselves

You are the chorus in my adverse life
We spread out our possessions all the time
All useless lessons and all the given names
Are poorly written and thrown away

So call me
I'll answer

The old country's disasterous
After us
There is nothing left to wear that could flatter us