(no subject)
We sent out the s.o.s. call
it was a quarter past four in the morning when the storm broke our second anchor line
four months at sea, four months of calm seas only to be pounded in the shallows off the tip of montauk point
they call then rogues, they travel fast and alone
on 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 on your own
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
off the port i see the lighthouse through the sleet and 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's cold
we won't have to fight for long
this is the end
this story's old but it goes on and on until we disappear
calm me and let me taste the salt you breathed while you were underneath
i am the one who haunts your dreams of mountains sunk below the sea
i spoke the words but never gave a thought to what they all could mean
i know that this is what you want
a funeral keeps both of us apart
you know that you are not alone
need you like water in my lungs
this is the end