In the east the wind is blowing the boats across
I can well recall the first time I ever put
I was a post-war baby in a small Scots town
Al Stewart - Roads To Moscow
They crossed over the
Rainstorm, brainstorm, faces in the maelstrom
Huddle by the puddles
Cut glass porcupine sailing on the Serpentine
Fingers on the
The morning is humming, it's a quarter past nine
I
I'm leaving my home in Europe behind
Heading out for