welcome aboard, me young hearty....
Strangely enough, my path crossed the trail of this young musician, and quicker than the rain picked up, we were conversing about the boatin' life.
Well, I thought about his family (seemed there was still a shred of innocence left to be salvaged), but the current always rolls downhill, and before I could drag him to the higher ground, there he was, kickin' fenders and talkin' about sailin' to Australia. I'm not even sure if the youth can swim, hailin' from Hermiston and all.
Well, missing the opportunity to put some sandpaper in his hand, I set him adrift, back on a Portland street corner, earning his living with an accordion and a empty hat.
Crawl down into these bilges, wharf rat, and you cast your fate with the sharks and gulls, the stars and the sea slime. Sure though, you may want to sign on with this watery cattle drive....it'll be the Gates of Hell or the Gates of Heaven, and you set your own course, mate.
Heaven and Hell are not geographical, they are not at the end of your life, they are here and now, they are within you.
A up-to-date chart, a true compass, a good heading and you reach the Gates of Heaven. The fog of ego, the lure of the Sirens' song, the ire of Poseidon, and you could drop anchor...anywhere. Go to Sea Once More