(©Thomas Schuber 2008)</p>

Up and down the country, over woodland, over plain<br>
Guardin‘ and protectin‘ from a threat that rose again<br>
Many years spent on the trail, been deep in and back from hell</p>

Avoided and been given names by folks that owe me well<br>
They would duck and cover from stories I could tell<br>
From the road outside the gate and while I rest it‘s getting late</p>

I sit and watch the scenery from my side of the room<br>
The little hope in secrecy we had might soon be gone<br>
I can‘t relax, can‘t tell my name, my cover can‘t be blown<br>
So I sit and watch the scenery from my side of the room</p>

Against the wall and waiting, blow smoke up to the roof<br>
Tired shapes in candlelight, shadows slowly move<br>
I‘ve not yet met my company, through the haze they look at me</p>

I sit and watch the scenery from my side of the room<br>
The little hope in secrecy we had might soon be gone<br>
I can‘t relax, can‘t tell my name, my cover can‘t be blown<br>
So I sit and watch the scenery from my side of the room</p>

There‘s foreign tongues and eyes<br>
Simple folks and spies<br>
There‘s endless streams of ale<br>
And drunken tongues tell tales</p>

I sit and watch the scenery from my side of the room<br>
The little hope in secrecy we had might soon be gone<br>
I can‘t relax, can‘t intervene, my cover can‘t be blown<br>
So I sit and watch it all come down from my side of the room</p>

My side of the room<br>
My side of the room<br>
My side of the room</p>

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