there will always be
someone who picks up
a cigarette
after eight years of hiding them
locked up in the bottom drawer

there will always be
someone who uncaps
a beer
after four months of listening
to the words of their daughter

there will always be
someone who goes back
to a lover
after a time they thought was an eternity
of forgetting them, moving on from them,
when really nothing has changed
and the progress they thought they had made
was nothing

just when i thought
that i'd have a day
when i could just sit
where i am and stay

stay placid and cool
without a single worry
but now i am caught up
with words in a hurry

they pour out of me
like bees from a hive
only to land and get hurt
and not stay alive

for i can write
only so fast
the rate these words are going
only few can last

they're words about everything
from last week and last year
they have so much to tell
to those who can hear

but i am tired of this
and choose not to aid
these words who want to get out
i choose to stop this parade

maybe another time
i will allow them to dance
but of course when i sit down
nothing will advance!

the ocean is so idolized
she's what everyone wants to be

she can be patient and thinking
sitting still like a mirror
reflecting the great blue sky

she can be strange and esoteric
lurking like the creatures beneath
hiding dark and obscure wonders

she can be turbulent and rioting
frothing with intense emotion
howling in distress about her pains

the ocean's variety of personalities
can be seen in all the world's people
maybe that's why we like her so much

you tell me the things on my face are ugly
and that i should cover them up
but what if i told you
that only makes them worse

i should tell you that your personality is ugly
and that you should cover that up
and let me tell you,
that would make everything better

this time of year comes by
and i always have to think
why did you have to leave
why did you have to fly away
away, to wherever you are
away, to somewhere so far
from mom and me,
we’re getting on fine,
but something tells me
it could be better
if you were here
but you’re not here
you’re away
far away
and you’re never coming back

why do i think of you
when the sun is down
and the stars are bright
reminding me of the time we spent beneath them

why do i think of you
when the sun is high
and the stars are gone
but have not erased the memories of you

why do i think of you
when you're not thinking of me

you were my lighthouse
out on the sea
you were my lighthouse
calling for me

you were my lighthouse
out on the bluff
you were my lighthouse
when times were rough

when the waves mercilessly crashed
up onto my sides
and pulled me down under,
deep beneath the tides

you were my lighthouse
standing true and tall
you were my lighthouse
with me through it all