We sent out the SOS call It was a quater 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 of 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 on your own.
The hole in the hull defied the crews 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 it to bits on the reef.
The vessel groans The
ocean pressures its frame. Off 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. 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 that 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.
*Repeat*