There's a ship of fools,
pulls into every port;
it's called the ship of love
(at my last report).

They disembark with eagerness
and roam the lonely shore;
unfulfilled and empty
they're always wanting more.

Rose-colored glasses they wear
optimistic and well wishing;
they seek the opposite ***
it's akin to fishing.

The lure, the line, the hook
if you get my meaning;
they're putting on the front
with clever, hopeful scheming.

The ship of fools is sailing
from wherever you can think;
on seas of expectant loving
with smiles and charms and winks.