Reading the same lines over and over.
Repeating movements of the eyes.
The same horizon endless as the sky.
Repeating movements of the eyes.
Repeating movements of the eyes.
The same horizon endless as the sky.
Repeating movements of the eyes.
As I blow in my own sails.
I know another attempt has failed to reach the solid shore and leave the sinking ship behind.
Do I really hate the farewell.
When it's me who has brought the petrol.
Petrol for a burning ship.
I've cut the wood to build the ship, and carved the match to light it
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