As the ship of loneliness,
cruises the bay.
The dock of her,
slowly slips away.
The waves are getting high,
and the tide is pushing out.
It's going in circles,
just thinking about ...

About her, and everything she does,
About her, and all the things she loves.
Please don't let her drift on out to sea,
because all that would have to mean ...
is that she's lost at me.

The sky is getting darker,
the wind is getting strong.
Everything the weatherman said,
is so obviously wrong.
He forecasted sunny skies,
and a high of eighty-five.
But all we feel is rain,
and a hope that we survive.

Next morning comes,
and we're wrecked somewhere.
She runs her fingers,
through her dirty hair.
She begins to cry,
as the clouds slip away.
And looks at me for condolence,
And I know just what to say ...