Now, home port is sighted in my spyglass, how long it’ll take me to beach there, I have no clue.
But, calm seas do not a skilled sailor make, and I’ll gladly accept that gift of the fates.
One day I’m going to row ashore and meet my true first-mate….whatever oar it takes, wherever he does lay.
We are all made of water, find your way to open seas.
Find your way to me.