Left At The Coast

What would’ve happened if we’d stayed in bed?
Would I be worrying about the things we’d said?
Would I be lying as I stroked your head?
The garden path seems an attractive place to be led.

Did you climb inside my head that night?
And weave a web while I just stood and sighed.
Reformed indifference seems mighty high,
Were we to be or did my mind unwind?

And travel to near awkward clouds and doubt,

The things I knew once to be flummoxed above,

And look down as if I’m not laid on the ground,

Wish somebody else manned the decks that morning.

Now I see me as an inferior being to thou,

Raise my glass to it, how;

I considered the boast to be left at the coast

A worthy remark to confide in my host

Were we too different to be kept alike?
Too far engrossed to see the tide’s in sight.
To fit new motors leaves me tired and blind,
And vision’s what keeps this flame alive.

To torch it all may seem the right thing to do,
Avoid the premise we both lingered to.
I hope the boats know which way to go,
Awoke to see that leaving time is slow.

But nobody’s calling them this way or that,

Encouraged by stars to evoke all the rats,

That ruined my brain, let my ships sail off course,

And encounter a truth-telling force.

And now I’m left talking in singular prose,

A crucified garment, no use for these woes;

I considered the boast to be left at the coast,

A worthy remark to confide in my host,

I considered the boast to be left at the coast,

A worthy remark to confide in my host.