By the dock

You think you'll get what you deserve,

if you're patient and well-behaved.

You crave the wild ocean, the life beyond

the horizon, the depths beneath the waves.

You think dreams will arrive

by ship; so you wait by the dock.

You sit and you count the days,

carve the numbers into the wood,

pray it isn't getting too late.

Men pass by and call your name,

but your heart lies in the water

where your feelings drown.

Men sit down with you and trouble

the water, skipping rocks over the surface

like you skip their affection.

Men build you a fire, keep you safe

from winter's embrace, but this cold

comes from within.

Men freeze at your back, but you won't turn

to face their grief. You say: "Life is fair,

what you deserve is coming." Spring is humming

a song to the cold air, but not in harmony

with your dream.

You think life will find you if you

stand by and watch it come.

So you watch the distance and

you wait,

and

you wait,

and

you wait.