I’ve run with haste into the thistle
I’ve gone from the start to the end
And skipped the middle,

I’ve proceeded blindly in devoid of wit
I leaped o’er the fence into the paddock
And found it full of ****,

I’ve fallen for lust and grace
And whilst idle, drunk, and still
It’s all simply washed away,

My vessels built for calm seas
It handles nothing more than swell
And prefers the quiet soothing breeze,

In a sudden and heavy pour
The serious and sobering rains came
And stranded me on this desolate shore,

Miles to the east and miles to the west
Two ways for me to wander
And I’ve no idea which is best,

Indecision is in my nature
So I’ll instead build sand castles
And leave the choosing up to later.