The day will come at a redrawing of the boundaries when Pilsudski will rear his head in Iberia
Because he's been moving west for centuries
Creeping every time that Mazzini turns in his grave
And I have watched his drift with sallow skin and with longing for the western coasts where he would lay his head and get well
For he has caught a disease that makes him bleed when breathing
They sent him south for the cure to the shores of the Starnbergersee
So the day will come when I pack my things and move west into the setting sun
Because my strength has failed
I am fading
So will you till my fields and will you tend my sheep until I get back
Because I will be coming home
My health restored
And if Josef can lose himself in the dark of the continent then surely there must be a way that I can cough up the last of the continent and lose myself
Nineteenth Century science cannot soother my chest
Staggering through Europe
I keep on heading west
My medicine is a setting sun