I sailed away to cast my fate,
on the shores of Catalina,
but after toiling thousands of miles,
I find the grass is much less greener.
All the wine in wine country,
has dissolved my ancient teeth,
I’m waking up grinding down,
with age old disbelief.
It’s not that I’m falling apart,
rather, I was never properly built,
but I’ll still stare blindly at the stars,
even when I’m cast half tilt.
A pilgrimage to the source of water,
is as close as I get to pure,
Half dead, but led by angel ass,
I drank and I was cured.
And when the earth claws me back,
and my game is truly over,
I’ll fight my way home to you,
to sleep beneath lucky clover.
And if I chance a dream of you,
then I can sleep happy forever.