There is a tide
Roaring up to my toes
As I am glued
To this crummy sand
This sand was God's plan
To bread the ashes
So we can store it in Poseidon's belly
I was the leftovers
From the City Hopkins Dance
Be kind
The sob stories
Are locked up
With the " how do you do's"
And the "I'm feeling fine"

There is a tide
Roaring up to my knees
People need to stop pleading
If they noticed me
Lurking in the shadows
Tied down behind them
They were too busy
With the racket ***** on recess
Maybe I could believe in it
Every white lie
Wiped across their unconcerned faces.

There is a tide
Roaring up to my wounded heart
Yes the heart
The heart that lays in my chest
The same chest that you laid on
Strawberries
That was the last thing I remember
About you