I’m in the market for a harbor,
for a place.
Tell me what you know.
Will the strangers take me in,
offer me a place to dock
or to bob, anchored in the storm?
I’m in the market for a harbor
but I’d settle for a sandbar,
running aground with the
promise of forever,
even in rust, in ruin.
I’m in the market for a harbor.
Will I have to settle for the perfect storm,
for the endless sheets of equatorial rain?
If not run aground, perhaps a shallow water grave,
a hope of a memory.
Can I still be something?
I’m in the harbor, in search of the market.
It’s time to sell the Gold, Gods and Glory
from every other shore.
Spent my trips around the sun finding out.
Yeah, thought I needed a harbor.
But, hey, maybe it needed me.