Look to the west and you are staring at my face
Sun on the hills and you enter my space
Across our city and my head beings to spin
With the state of the nation and the mess that were in
Spinning again spinning over to you
Spinning again spinning over to you

Cling to the hills, I can hide for some days
Then calling from the west the ferryman says
Come see my sea and the place that we’re in
Fiddles in the sun and then he starts to sing
Spinning again spinning over to you
Spinning again spinning over to you

Sun going down over welsh hills west
Across oily water and I should know whats best
But he’s calling me again and I don’t know what to do
Calling in my head and singing his tune
Spinning again spinning over to you
Spinning again spinning over to you