I'm floating on a river of lonliness.
In a boat made of shattered dreams.
There's lights to the port and starboard.
Blackness in the forward extremes.

I paddle with with an oar of desperation.
Towards some haven, a coast of relief.
There's light to the port and starboard,
it illumines the face of my grief.

I drift on the waters of melancholy.
My companion is blackest despair.
The lights to the port and starboard.
Show clearly you're no longer there.

I will wreck on a beach of barren time.
Its sand will be choking and foul.
There's lights to the port and starboard.
Vile darkness clings to my soul.

I will sleep in this sterile wasteland.
And wish it to be for all time.
There's lights to the port and starboard.
But what's light without reason or rhyme?