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