Tomorrow I’m leaving.
The kids from my town
won’t remember me,
or my good head of hair.
In this bag of mine
there’s nothing I can spare:
a handful of clothes
and the rest is just care.
Know I’m leaving tomorrow,
and couldn’t be more scared.
The hours go by,
the sun wears a hat up there.
Road, take me far
wherever there’s a port.
Wherever a boat awaits
in between waves of salt.