Maybe better off sailing from this black water bay,
Where love does not blossom, good does never stay,
So if I cut the rope let myself drift on out to sea,
Then could I find peace, perhaps only when I’ve finally gone away.
They say somewhere East of survival,
Roads are paved with smiles and joy.
Forever trapped inside, my own best rival,
No end in sight for the plight of one more broken boy.
Somewhere East of survival, where our path never treds…