Out on an Island

When I was a sailor I would peer out on the deck at night,
thinking of the time when I was a little child.
I spoke with the prophets and the secrets that they gave me
were all set in motion when I discovered the ocean,
and the sea that was inside of me,
the salty tears ran down my cheeks
for elephants that cannot breath
the air we know we cannot keep
alive.

We found that there’s no resolution.
Ever flowing energies and failing walls of old polluted
melancholy memories of
people that were taken from the shores we left behind
when the ocean rose and swallowed up
the cities that we lived in.
Everyone is sitting now
the reading of the eulogy
is coming to an end and
we all must pretend that we’ll be
fine.

Now it is the end of seas and I’m out on an island.
I could not speak the answers, so we floated with the sirens.
Found the only peace of mind that made sense to us at the time.
The lonely unforgiving crime that hurts no one but we and all the
trees that have fallen
all but sunk into the waters
of our only sons and daughters and
the laughter of the ones that don’t
believe.

When I was a sailor I would peer out on the deck at night,
thinking of the time when I was a little child.
I spoke with the prophets and the secrets that they gave me
were all set in motion when I discovered the ocean,
and the sea that was inside of me,
the salty tears ran down my cheeks
for elephants that cannot breath
the air we know we cannot keep
alive.