When the piano stops playing
the music ceases to be heard
glasses are emptied
there is nothing to be served
dark clouds block the sunshine
and i know I've lost my way
i turn around and there is no hope--
--shining on this bay.
This is my empty life,
a waitress on the sea.
The tides come and go,
and so does my sick sad deeds.
Blisters and unattractive warts,
they are just not apart of me,
keeping me from the out of this place,
and onto this old sea.
Life passes me by as the old man plays,
the piano has its good times,
and its dreadfully bad days.
I don't know why grey clouds pass me by,
and i am stuck here at sea.
But when I see the sun,
only sadness seems to see.
As the void, the sea, grows larger,
and i am growing farther from my dreams,
i realize that in this time,
these times of ale and age,
That I, amongst these fools,
must reach the other side of the stage.
So before a testament roaring,
and bitter thoughts contorting,
i stand ready to see.
The Sea, the sand,
this gory land,
is my pressure,
for now i am off to see,
to see beyond the sea.
