Lost Boys Calling
Ennio Morricone, Roger Waters
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
