I blame my woes on the grass and underlying rock
In all reality I'm responsible for my mental block
The song of the sea still pulls on my rope
Even if I cover my ears like a big dope
Still a song sweeter than any lute
Often find myself unknowingly packing up fruit
Maybe it is time I clear the sand out of my clock
Bail my boat out of hock
Rid my soul of the taint of money
Find myself in dangerous situations I find funny
Or maybe fate or ole Terra will have me stay
For reasons they can not yet convey
On the wind or sea, I'll continue to sway