a lot of rig, a lot of sail
a sea of debt, a depthless sea

sent away for a battleship
a dead fire
a floating husk
filled with
ghost pirates
every thursday night

grew tired of the sea life

moved to the valley
rented a convertible at daybreak
the sun pumping in the sky
no money for the meter
no money for the rent
i pray for good weather
i wonder where all the fires went

perhaps the sea life was better
than landlock
there are no landlords
in the open ocean

there's a boxcar waiting
the trains are still running
here comes our pod
the tunnels are humming

we could still go home