Here I sleep the morning through
Until the call to prayer awakes me
And there is nothing to do but rise
And follow the day wherever it takes me
I stand at the window and look at the sea
Then I make me a pot of opium tea

Down at the port I watch the [bad word] in
Watching [bad word] in can do something to you
And the kids gather round with outstretched hand
And I toss them a diram or two
And I wonder if my children are thinking of me
For I am what I am and what will be will be

I wonder if my kids are thinking of me
And I smile and I sip my opium tea

At night the sea lashes [bad word] red ramparts
And the shapes of hooded men move past me
And the mad moaning wind, it laughs and it laughs
At the strange lot that fate has cast me
And the cats on the rampart sing merrily
That I am what I am and what will be will be
The cats on the rampart sing merrily
And I sit and I drink my opium tea

I'm a prisoner here, I can never go home
There is nothing here to win or to lose
There are no choices needing to be made at all
Not even the choice of having to choose
I am a prisoner, yes, but I am also free
'Cause I am what I am and what will be will be
I'm a prisoner here, yes, but I'm also free
And I smile and I sip my opium tea