As a kid I was a Flat Earther,
and could never quite conceive
a world beyond my streets.
Why should I? I had everything: ants, go carts, and girls
who dropped their knickers in the play surgery.
Then one day I heard the trees creak
like rigging in the wind, and their was my hero -
on the poop deck of my dreams.
I started to stoop in the house,
and grip the handrail to my quarters.
It was time to set sail. It was 1973.
Aboard a red bus we went to the next town
a mate and me, with £2 he'd stolen
from his mum's purse. We were pirates!
The tickets unrolled like maps.
Then later, as the years passed by,
I went on and on as far as the eye could see.
until I came back to these streets again.
The Earth is round.
Sometimes I'd still like to believe
it's possible to sail off the edge of the world