[Verse 1] Robert got up and walked over to the tiny shower room in the corner, shedding his clothes along the way. He tried to remember whether he had signed some contract while he was drunk, but all he could recall was that wierd dream he'd had about talking to... who was she? Hunter Wilson, the woman from that last colony massacre. He remembered how, back then, when everything went black, they had somehow kept each other from giving up. Robert entered the shower with a smile on his face. The water was good and hot. She hadn't invaded his dreams for years. Then he frowned. In the dream she had said he was poisoning himself, or something like that. Perhaps, he thought, there was a good reason for that dream. Robert looked toward his toes. He was definitely getting a gut. Maybe it was time to get back into form. [Chorus] Alone in borrowed quarters, drifting where the star‑lanes bend, A dead friend's name on strangers' tongues, a message he can't mend. Pulled between the past he lost and some new, nameless war, He's waking up in someone else's ship, still looking for the door. [Verse 2] Robert had stepped out of the shower before it struck him. Whoever it was in the room earlier not only knew his name, which could be easily found out, but also knew that Reefer was dead. He wondered if the stranger also knew who Reefer was, or how he died, or if it had just been a guess. Robert looked around the cubicle as he dried himself off. It was pretty straightforward, a crew‑quarters for a small to mid‑range cruiser. That probably meant deep space. Perhaps a crew of fewer than five hundred. If it was on the level, he might as well roll with it, at least untill the next port or station. He opened the closet, and found that his clothes had been hung. Someone wanted him to feel welcome, or watched. "Well," he told himself aloud while he pulled on a pair of clean pants, "may as well get comfortable. Wonder if the door's locked?" [Chorus] Alone in borrowed quarters, drifting where the star‑lanes bend, A dead friend's name on strangers' tongues, a message he can't mend. Pulled between the past he lost and some new, nameless war, He's waking up in someone else's ship, still looking for the door. [Verse 3] The door opened quietly when he thumbed the control, revealing an empty hallway. Robert leaned out and looked in both directions. The hallway went quite a distance, perhaps a little over fifteen meters, and stopped with a bulkhead. There were doors on both sides of the way, ten total, counting his own. Pulling his head back into the room, Robert closed the door and sat on the edge of his bed. Free access huh? They must not know much about me, yet. [Chorus] Alone in borrowed quarters, drifting where the star‑lanes bend, A dead friend's name on strangers' tongues, a message he can't mend. Pulled between the past he lost and some new, nameless war, He's waking up in someone else's ship, still looking for the door. [Verse 4] He sat for a moment longer, thinking. No, he decided, better not start making anyone nervous right off the bat, space is a lonely place to be without a spaceship. He instead turned and opened the closet. Just how much of his stuff did they bring, he asked himself? It looked like everything from his room was here, even, he opened the small varnished walnut case to reveal, his revolver. Looking farther back he could see the longer case that the rifle was hopefully still in. They were both relics from a time forever gone. Even though they were still operational, There was nowhere to get ammunition anymore. [Chorus] Alone in borrowed quarters, drifting where the star‑lanes bend, A dead friend's name on strangers' tongues, a message he can't mend. Pulled between the past he lost and some new, nameless war, He's waking up in someone else's ship, still looking for the door. [Outro] Both were passed down through generations. Family heirlooms whose real value was in their preserved existence, and nobody but Robert knew of their significance.
