Thursday, September 23, 2010

Confessions Of An Old Sailor

She sits on the bow
Contemplating her treason
Gun held close to her brow
Sweat shop surrogate love
How will we make it through this storm
Compass points somewhere past North
Captain I’m losing you

I know what I wrote
Oh my this sailor might
She just might...........

Hand me my cigar
Where’s Jesus when I need him most

The tide is red and the baron takes flight
I’m grounded
Oh star commander
Russian Roulette was always my favorite game

This time his hand has the trigger finger
I’m on my knees
What a storm
Oh boy
Your quiet today
A thousand miles behind us
Contemplating treason
I hope I don’t regret this........