one day i walked into a room,
and i didn't know more than
i knew, but one day i walked
into a room.

with your fantastic, swirly, oceanic eyes,
you locked with my Van Morrison'*****-colored eyes,
and I thought, well maybe, just maybe
I didn't think that far into it,
but one day i walked into that room,
that room you were in,
and a thought crossed my mind.

you don't mingle with the others.
you don't tread water like the others.
you're in your own ship, and
that ship seems pretty stable on this sea.

see, my ship is stable as well, but it's
been with a lot of work, constant
reconstruction of the captain's ship
due to heartbreak, self-discovery,
and everything in between.
my sailing will never be anything
Columbus or Polo-level
extraordinary.

you just sail in a practical nature
like Cook, in Renaissance-flavor
like Raleigh, and
one day i walked into a room, that room,
and not only did i want to come on board your ship,
get lost in your eyes or at sea,
but i wanted to walk with you
at the bow or even on to the plank.