Cast the mooring loose at dawn; drift out, tide-borne, to another day, Through the morning mist that hangs like a shroud across the bay. Water lapping 'gainst the bow; canvas flapping as it takes the strain. Trim the foresail as the sun lights the sea, then hoist the main.
This is the morning of The Venturer: today he sails for foreign shores, And leaves behind him all the things he couldn't suffer anymore. I take my hat off to The Venturer: the only shackles that he owns Are in the rigging of his vessel: he's got freedom in his bones.
Stolen kisses in the night; love and laughter on a summer's day; These The Venturer remembers on the morning of his day.
This is the morning of The Venturer: today he sails for foreign shores, And leaves behind him all the things he couldn't suffer anymore. I take my hat off to The Venturer: the only shackles that he owns Are in the rigging of his vessel: he's got freedom in his bones. creditsTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
