Mar 07, 2005 21:40
Send out the S.O.S. call. It's a quarter past six , in the evening When the storm broke our second anchor line. Five weeks at sea. Five weeks of calm seas only to be pounded in the shallows off the tip of Montauk Point.
They call them rogues. They travel fast and alone. One hundred foot faces of God's good ocean gone wrong. What they call love is a risk, cause you will always get hit out of nowhere by some wave and end up......???
The hole in the hull defied the crew’s attempts,
To bail us out.
And flooded the engines and radio,
And half buried bow.
Your tongue is a rudder; it steers the whole ship. Sends your words past your lips or keeps them safe behind your teeth. But the wrong words will strand you. Come off course while you sleep. Sweep your boat out to sea or dashed to bits on the reef.
The vessel groans. The ocean pressures its frame. To the port I see the lighthouse through the sleet and the rain. And I wish for one more day to give my love and repay debts. But the morning finds our bodies washed up thirty miles west.
They say that the captain stays fast with the ship,through still and storm. But this ain't the Dakota, and the water is cold...
In school they never teach us what we need to know, like how to deal with despair, or someone breaking your heart. I remember I kept thinking that I know you never would, and now...
Ignore the sun, the cover's over my head.
I wrote a message on my pillow that says, "Jessie, stay asleep in bed."
and everyone wonders why i love brand new...