I’ve sailed over the waters of melancholy eyes,
My fishing lines dragging off the stern.
My heart has a hole in its pocket I am told
And it’s Empty as a vacant urn –
So spare the heart of this landless Mariner
With still so much to be learned.
I once saw the promise of a beautiful life
In the sadness of a black and white photograph.
My heart has a hole in the bottom of it’s pocket,
Where the ring slipped through
Off the bride of the past –
While tracing the immortality in our epitaph.
In a dream we are throw away lovers,
Who wake up when the children are grown.
My heart has a hole it’s pocket I’m told,
And we wonder where the lost years have gone –
The only cure for too much is more,
So I’m writing this letter to anon.
