Boat on a hill, never going to sea. Anchored to a fixer upper's dream. This
boat is beat, never gonna be a boat now. Thirsty, sees the sea from high on
the ice plant. He keeps patching it and painting. Thinking about his pension
plan. But the boat is out to pasture. Seems it never had a chance. I wanna be
a boat, I wanna learn to swim. Then I'll learn to float. Then begin again.
Begin again. Boat remembers the carpenter's sure hand. Missing fishy flutter
on it's rutter. Sold at an auction, on a dolly ever since. Sometimes rainy
days drop boyish wonder