Other-waters

“Mercy, mercy,” why didn't we hear it?
“Mercy, mercy,” why did we read it buried on the last page of our morning papers?
The plan was drafted, drafted in secret.
Gunboats met the red tide, driven to the rum trade for the army that they created.

I dropped my anchor in the dead of night
I packed my suitcase and threw it away

Isn't a suitcase very unpractical aboard a ship, or is that the reason he threw it away?

These changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes
Nothing remains quite the same
Through all of the islands and all of the highlands
If we couldn't laugh we would all go insane

I think about Paris when I'm high on red wine
I wish I could jump on a plane
So many nights I just dream of the ocean
God I wish I was sailin' again

Guess I'll be on my way
I won't be back to say
I guess I'll move along
I'm looking for a good time (time)

Sail on down the line, ain't it