The wind howls above my head,
Safe in the territory of my bed.
Creaks and moans of the pinewood bunks,
But only three days filled are our trunks.
This city is large and beautiful,
But my eyes are heavy, dreams are full.
My companions have gone out to explore,
But I shall now sleep, my apertures sore.
Safe in the territory of my bed.
Creaks and moans of the pinewood bunks,
But only three days filled are our trunks.
This city is large and beautiful,
But my eyes are heavy, dreams are full.
My companions have gone out to explore,
But I shall now sleep, my apertures sore.
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