Al Stewart - On The Border

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 ghost moon sails among the clouds


Turns the rifles into silver on the border





On my wall the colours of the maps are running


From Africa the winds they talk of changes coming


The torches flare up in the night


The hand that sets the farms alight


Has 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


And no-one notices the customs slip away





Late last night the rain was knocking at 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 standing on the border





In the islands where I grew up


Nothing seems the same


It's just the patterns that remain


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 ghost moon sails among the clouds


Turns the rifles into silver on the border





On the border


On the border


On the border