©2010 Crandall

It’s late
The air is thick as a blanket
We set sail against a new moon
The deck is cloaked in its pallid light

I watch the souls congregating
Around a starboard light
I used to long for uncharted worlds
Now I’d settle for some peace of mind

I feel the wheelhouse churning
Mechanics in motion
The last outpost of the living world
Shimmers in and out of sight

I’ve lost my taste for eternity
But you’ve got to stick at something
Tick, tock, another hour off the clock
Counting down to nothing

I wish I could turn this ship around

I take a long drag off my cigarette
Gaze over water deep and still
I can hear the sirens’ call
Echoing through the netherworld

We all wait for our turn
To lie down and claim defeat
We brace ourselves for the sucker punch
That will drop us to our knees

I wish I could turn this ship around

Only time knows what’s lost

It’s late, I check our bearings
And chart a course for the hidden deep
Sometimes you’ve got to stop yourself from hearing
Hope is a vanity and it will make you bleed
I said hope is a vanity and it will make you bleed

I wish I could turn this ship around