what about the hours i spent
devising the tales i told
my fiction just to balance our
the way that your arms can pull.
if my love was a sailor
he´d use his boat for ill
to sail beyond the reach
of the one who loves him still.
what of the control it takes
to hold it behind my eyes
to stop the rushing water
when the river´s too weak to try.
if my love was a sailor
he´d use his boat for ill
to sail beyond the reach
of the one who loves him still.