send out an sos call, its a quarter past four in the morning. the storm broke our second anchor line. four months it seems, four months of calm seas to be pounded at the tip of my talk point. the corn rows the travel fast and alone. 100 foot faces of gods good ocean gone wrong.
they call love is a risk to get hit out of no where by some wave and end up on your own.
the hole in the hull defide the crews attempts to bail up out. they flooded the engines and rodio half buried them.
your tounge is a rudder steers the whole ship. sends words past your lips keep em safe behind your teeth. but the wrong words will strand you come off course while your a sleep. sweep your boat out to sea or dashed to bits on the reef.
vessle gromes the ocean the pressure its frame. to 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 bodys 30 miles west.
they say that captin stash with the ship though still anda storm but this aint the decoder the waters so cold we wont have to fight for long.
This is the end, this storys old but it goes on and on until we dissapear. call me and let me taste the salt that you breath when you go underneth i am the one that haunts your dreams of mountains sunk below the sea. i spoke the words but never gave it thought to what they all could mean. i know that this is what you want a funeral keeps both of us apart. you kno wthat you are not alone i need you like water in my lungs.
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