The shapes I'm seeing in the morning
Still think I see em in the night
What sort of current am I caught in?
Sea of gray, same in every light
The view is always the same, without reference it's hard to see change
And find a reason to keep hold of oars when they don't seem to move you whatever you do
If you tried,
to let it go
Would it change a thing?
Would it sink you?
What's a stroke, out at sea
Even a hundred won't change what you see, but you're not deterred
Spend your time just holding back the tide that pulls you boat
Or let it float on aimlessly
If I could even see the shoreline
I'd reach the land eventually
But since I cannot find direction
Why fight the waves when I could let them take me?