Saturday, October 27, 2007

one-hundred-foot faces of God's good ocean gone wrong

The vessel groans; the ocean pressures its frame.
To the port I see the lighthouse through the sleet and 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 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.

~Brand New


I feel like complete crap. My body aches. My chest feels like it's collapsing.