I have been to sea plenty of times
In luxurious cruise ships
And in rickety dinghies
In traveling across the seven waters
After noticing seven is an often repeated number
I've also come to terms that the nicest looking of boats are the worst
And the most hideous vessels are certainly the loveliest
Out of all the ships on sea I've been a passenger in, the Avril was the best
I sailed in it times twenty
Drifting slowly and tenderly
Of course as every other voyage, there were rocky times but I do believe that the sea sickness was a small price to pay for such a memorable trip.
Often at night while I lay in bed, finally safe on land (I retired my sea legs)
I feel as if I am slowly rocking again on the Avril, times twenty
And I again long for the salty brine I once knew.

I think I lost my head among the thick oak trees
And perhaps my feet were left at mountains bases
My legs tumbled down rocky cliffs
And my arms came undone amid the soft prairie grasses
Fingers lost at roadside diners
Toes forgotten at cheap motels
But my heart was not left on accident
And it was not of my own doing
It was tossed into the brittle ocean, with the fish claiming it for their own, saying I had no use of it anyhow.