Every piece of driftwood
Has a story to tell
Every roamer
Has a soul to sell
Every loner
Has been to hell
I've sat on the back
Of freight trains
Watched the tracks
clicking and ticking
Like an old grandfather clock
A few minutes before midnight
A few moments of respite
Sandy beaches
Pebbled shores
Rocky cliffs plunging
Forever more
I run my finger
on the smooth driftwood
a pirate ship once
that sailed the seven seas
I too, once, was free