Without the dust of cars
Been here a week or so
with the sound of our guitars
and the farmers coming home
i ve been here once before
been here at the coast
where fishermen and pirates meet the sailors at the park.
and the dunes defending shield
spreads across the face
we run along the fields
watch a dancing shade
the talking here seems weird
but comfort gave the smiles
makes us feel at home at least for one week of the year.
And we go
we take the march back home
got no place else to go
And we know
we gotta take the march back home
got no place else to go
And the paths along the fields
the darkness growing old
and the patterns of the beach
tickling in our toes
and noone else could hear
noone else would know that this time of the year we´ve got no other place to go.
And we go
we take the march back home
got no place else to go
And we know
we gotta take the march back home
got no place else to go
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