Heading nowhere, we started to sail --
One afternoon, in a wooden boat.
Relief had been all that I'd exhale
As I cleared my tired, sore throat.

I had been shouting for a while,
I mean... who would not?
If comfort lies less than a mile,
One would celebrate and scream a lot.

That is until you decided to dive,
And immediately promised to be back at five.
You quickly jumped from the boat,
And through a lifesaver, you were afloat.

The sun was almost drowning
As I waited in the boat of wood.
Not a single soul was returning;
I really thought that you would.

From a distance, on the same blue water,
A familiar face was sailing elsewhere.
Without a word, I sailed afar;
Guided by the drowning star.

I left the wooden boat on the shore --
Heading nowhere, just like before.

Once again, a rhythm of tears
Demanded to be sung--
Only to harmonize the voice of a child
Imprisoned inside his chest.
He has all the notes he needed
As well as the lyrics he wrote.
But when shall the singing start?
The gods won't give him a stage;
He might now be silent in rage.

Alone within a thick wall,
With no one to stay,
He reminded himself,
"It is better this way."