Just woke up at 3 p.m. after a "Night at the Museum". Maybe a funny night, maybe a night just thrown away as other numberless nights.
But it is not this the problem.
The problem is still the same. Flown away, gone away. Never to come back to the harbour I use to stay. The harbour in which I want to lay.
"... can I too lay in... ?"
... you can not, or maybe you just don't may.