Exile Years by Torgny Lilja So this is how I one day came To live where people spoke differently, And just authorities would know my name. By then, there was no more such boundary As when I had to lock my door And look into the walls and ceiling. It wasn't like any place I'd seen before, And I can still get that peculiar feeling... Beyond the refugee's old tears and fears, There lies a land of possibility. These are the exile years... And here's a state with some tranquillity. On the Dance Floor The Woman in Blue Beauty on Water