The Migrant Poet Songtext

And I know that you must go, but when you go you leave us here alone.

Yes on days when work is slow, I write to you the things I know.
I clear my head of thoughts and see what comes to mind.
Sometimes it's the joys and the sorrows of this world, but mostly it's you who keep coming all the time.
And I know no other way; this is the hand that we must play..
A few words and the money that I make.

So what have you written?
I have written things..
a poem to draw you near and keep my heart from wandering.
But have you written of me?
Yes I have written of you.

Have you written of our children? Of our two pretty daughters? Have you written of our sons who ask about their father?
Have you written of my kids? Of this long loneliness?
Have you written of the emptiness you said only I could fill?
And I wonder how strong, I wonder how strong, how much water can a few words hold.

Yes I have written of Maria and of little Marivelle; I have written of the boys -- I hope one day I'll know them well. I have written of your kiss and how the taste of you I miss..
I have written of the emptiness of only you can fill.
So please have faith. Please have faith.
'Cause words are what we have until I come home.

And Suzanna, this pencil -- it keeps me alive when I feel your absence in my bed at night.
When the company I keep is with a bunch of homesick men..
We sweat our lives away, 'hope to return home again.
So Miguel preaches the gospel, keeping faith in what's to come.. while Juan takes to the bottle and the women til he's numb.
And we do not speak the language and we know not where we are.. These words are all I have to keep the door ajar.
So I'm writing my way home to you.

So what have you written?
I have written things..
a poem for you, my love, and the day we'll meet again.
So you have written of me?
Yes, I have written of you.