I Am Disappeared (songbook Version) Lyrics - Frank Turner

I keep having dreams 

Of pioneers and pirate ships and Bob Dylan 

Of people wrapped up tight in the things that will kill them 

Of being trapped in a lift plunging straight to the bottom 

Of open seas and ways of life we've forgotten 

I keep having dreams 

Amy worked in a bar in Exeter 

I went back to her house and I slept beside her 

She woke up screaming in the middle of the night 

Terrified of her own insides 

Dreams of pirate ships and Patty Hearst 

Breaking through a life over-rehearsed 

She can't remember which came first 

The house, the home, or the terrible thirst 

She keeps having dreams 

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And on the worst days 

When it feels like life weighs ten thousand tons 

She's got her cowboy boots and car keys on the bedstand 

So she can always run 

She can get up, shower, and in half an hour she'll be gone 

I keep having dreams of things I need to do 

And waking up but not following through 

But it feels like I haven't slept at all 

When I wake to a silence and she's facing the wall 

Posters of Dylan and of Hemingway 

An antique compass for a sailor's escape 

She says you just can't live this way 

And I close my eyes and I never say 

I'm still having dreams 

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And on the worst days 

When it feels like life weighs ten thousand tons 

I sleep with my passport 

One eye on the back door 

So I can always run 

I can get up, shower, and in half an hour I'll be gone 

And come morning 

I am disappeared 

Just an imprint on the bedsheets 

I'm by the roadside with my thumb out 

A car pulls up, and Bob's driving 

So I climb in 

We don't say a word 

As we pull off into the sunrise 

And these rivers 

Of tarmac 

Are like arteries across the country 

We are blood cells alive in the bloodstream 

The beating heart of the country 

We are electric pulses 

In the pathways of the sleeping soul of the country 

We are electric pulses 

In the pathways of the sleeping soul of the country 

We are electric pulses 

The sleeping soul of the country 

The sleeping soul of the country