Diving for the gold in the Lake Geneva cold,
Swimming for your grandpa's lost treasure.
Your tobacco fed the birds,
Your tongue it cast a curse on whoever dare try and keep you there another year.
And the town it gawked at you as you sailed your wooden canoe through the lake in the harsh Swiss winter.
Cut the strings,
And leave if you need to leave.
Find the marvels of the world but keep that rusty spoon,
Keep the gifts that your dear ones shed you.
And always remember the lake, but never the eyes of your mistakes,
Keep your past as a reminder for your future.
Leave if you need to leave,
Just know that your home is with me