Fogfront Lament

(ahhhh-ohhh) The cliffs are sharp and the fog is deep At the

edge of the world,

where the oceans meet

My mother sits by a warm hearth-fire

Three hundred miles from this cold desire

Oh, the grey salt spray and the wind's cold hand I am

stranded here on this rugged land While my love is sailing a

distant sea And my home is a ghost of a memory

The city lights that my sisters know

Are far from where these wild tides blow

I watch the waves for a sign of your mast

Praying the storm will be the last

And the radio hums,

and the lighthouse shines Through the spruce and the pine on the

boundary lines (hold on,

hold on)

Oh, the grey salt spray and the wind's cold hand I am

stranded here on this rugged land While my love is sailing a

distant sea And my home is a ghost of a memory (ooh-ooh-ooh)

At the edge of the world...

At the edge of the world... (mmmmm)