By Colin Clyne Copyright 2020
Flown further than the wind carries leaves
Sinking lower than the roots of old trees
Sun beats so hard that it reddens black skin
Yet we bask in its heat and we try to begin
To rekindle the warmth but the candle is dead
Dead like the cold side of a widow’s bed
Where once there were ports
Well I can’t berth in those lies
Like lightning strikes
From the murderous skies
Where once there were ports
I can’t berth in those lies
We’ll beach this lost love
Where the ships go to die
Hearts and minds swirling out of control
Not enough fingers for too many holes
Taking on water faster than prayers
Bailing the sadness with a cup of despair
Shelter once known, so far out of reach
Dead and abandoned she lays on a beach
Where once there were ports
Well I can’t berth in those lies
Like lightning strikes
From the murderous skies
Where once there were ports
Well I can’t berth in those lies
We’ll beach this lost love
Where the ships go to die
Times a picture that we paint in our minds
Sinking ships, nobody gets out alive
