I live in a house on a cliff
at the edge of the sea.
Every morning I wake
to the whisper of waves
telling me:

"We're taking it all away,
a little bit more every day.
Watch your step when you get
out of bed-- there may not be floor
left to tread
on your way to the place
where your living room
used to be."

I walked yesterday down a hall
where this morning there's nothing at all
in the place where I lived, wrote and sang
so happily.

I wish I could move away
but I know that it's here I must stay
until all I have is taken away by the sea.
the loss to me is great
more than mere real estate
For it isn't a house I'm losing, no--
it's me.