The fishing boats go out across the evening water
Smuggling guns and arms across the Spanish border
The wind whips up the waves so loud
The ghostman sails amoung the clouds
Turns the rifles into silver
On the borderOn my wall the colors of the maps are running
From Africa the winds they talk of changes coming
The torches flare up in the night
The Hun that sets the farms alight
To spread the word to those who're waiting
On the border
In the village where I grew up nothing seems the same
Still you never see the change from day to day
No one notices the customs slip awayLate last night the rain was knocking on my window
I moved across the darkened room and in the lampglow
I thought I saw down in the street the spirit of the century
Telling us that we're all standingIn the islands where I grew up nothing seems the same
It's just the patterns that remains - an empty shell
But there's a strangeness in the air you feel too well
The fishing boats go out across the evening water
Smuggling guns and arms across the Spanish border
The wind whips up the waves so loud
The ghostman sails amoung the clouds
Turns the rifles into silver
On the border
