Opium Tea
Here I sleep the morning through,
Till the wail of the call to prayer awakes me.
And there ain't nothing at all to do but rise and follow
The day wherever it takes me.
I stand at the window and I look at the sea
And I am what I am, and what will be will be,
I stand at the window and I look at the sea,
And I make me a pot of opium tea.
Down at the port I watch the boats come in
Watch the boats come in can do something to you
And the kids gather around with an outstretched hand
And I toss them a diram or two
Well, I wonder if my children are thinking of me,
Cause I am what I am, and what will be will be.
I wonder if my kids are thinking of me,
And I smile and I sip my opium tea.
At night the sea lashes the rust red ramparts,
And the shapes of hooded men who pass me,
And the moan of the wind laughs and laughs and laughs,
The strange luck that fate has cast me.
Well, the cats on the rampart sing merrily,
That he is what he is and what will be will be,
Yeah, the cats on the rampart sing merrily,
And I sit and I drink of my opium tea.
I'm a prisoner here, I can never go home,
There is nothing here to win or lose,
There are no choices needed to be made at all,
Not even the choice of having to choose.
Well, I'm a prisoner here, yes, but I'm also free,
Cause I am what I am and what will be will be.
I'm a prisoner here, yeah, but I'm also free
And I smile and I sip my opium tea.
