A Sun Called Cass

there in plymouth, where the land kisses the ocean, there is a sun, a sun that never sets, a sun called Cass. a sun that shines on the free spirits of the Waterfronts, in thousands of meetings between two worlds, where the sea and the sun fall in love, under the rain of stars that fall from the sky for people like us, for the ships that with sailing wounds find rest in your rays, there under the Smeaton Tower, you are the light of hope for the promised land, for the stairways to heaven, towards dreams and stars, to touch the sun that never sets. in the small port of Barbican, you are the spirit of the night after every drink, after every dance, after every smile of people, Shine your rays, the real treasury of the Treasury Bar, the sleeping beauty of a city, without sunrise and sunset, under a sun that never sets a sun named Cass.