LYRIC

i got high with an art teacher of mine i learned how to paint portraits and landscapes with perspective but i’ve been sitting here the better part of eighteen years blank stare blank canvas i’m in need of a new view of some new scenery to render

there’s a boat leaving where it goes, well i don’t know

i’ve been buried alive my history teacher by my side lest i forget those mistakes that better men have made the battles fought and lost small victories at what cost? the curriculum is dated, my inspiration fading a slow setting sun

there’s a boat leaving where it goes, well i don’t know but if it floats i’m getting on with or without you

the winds are strong enough our native tongues will fail us oh the pleasure i would take in renaming everything

there are boats leaving where they go, well i don’t know but it’s a chance to see something new will you come with me?

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