(Verse 1) Window's open, take a number, fill the feeling in the box, declare what you are carrying, then sit and watch the clocks. I've got a form for missing you, I've got a stamp for stay, the Migration Office blues are just the toll for going away. (Chorus) It's the blues, the customs blues, in the buzzing office light, a suitcase full of maybe and a heart that won't sit right. But the officer looked up at me and slid a permit through — no charge for coming back, my friend, we saved a spot for you. (Verse 2) I declared a little heartbreak, I declared a little hope, they weighed it on the counter and they handed me some rope. "You're cleared," they said, "for landing, you're cleared for one more try" — and the stamp came down like sunrise on a customs-office sky. (Bridge) Belonging permit, ink still wet, the rubber stamp came down, turns out the place you wander from is still your hometown. (Chorus) So it's the blues, the customs blues, but the blues turned something true, there's no charge for coming back, my friend, they always wait for you — belonging permit, ink still wet, and everything's alright.
