Ghost gulls of Picton, how lovely you fly,
Filling the night air with your haunting cry,
Skimming the wavetops and racing the swell,
How easy it seems for you,
How easy it seems for you.
You drift in the night sky like something unreal.
You'll never know how restricted we feel,
Tied to the land in our own little worlds.
Bright lights receding, friends left behind.
Memories already blurring with time.
You can fly back whenever you feel,
The few miles between us seem just like a wall.
On land we would think them just nothing at all,
The short stretch of ocean keeps us apart.
all rights reserved