The floor creaks and I'm still whistling. The sun's up, I want that warm gun. That's life out in the ocean. I want the taste of salt on my tongue. You're pacing towards remission. I'm drinking dirty water. There's hope inside your blue eyes. Your father's only daughter.
I'm going outside. I swear I saw a million stars right above my bedroom window. Outside, we were laughing in the moonlight, voiding the contracts that we didn't sign.
Entertaining the politicians wife. I never thought I would ever lead this life. Life on a houseboat gets real sad, at least I get to dance with dad.
We come to sad realizations everyday where it might seem best to drift away. Take a note from Dan and jump the boat, flip on your back and float float float. But the main points of your theory are just slightly condescending. I've invested too much effort. I'm entirely entitled to be lost.
I've been having such, such evil thoughts where I go out back cut my feet off. I will need them life's adventures gone, now I sit at a desk and burn my tongue. The cashews on the floorboards are spelling out sings of life's potential. Where did you go wrong? No where'd I go wrong?