Thea

Don't play your games, remember life's lottery, it's nearly the same, those who miss ships, search for the free, get salt on their lips, for better rates, they sit by the sea, it carries their freight, in songs of the wind, they make my eyes sing, the way you kiss, but now on your face, nothing comes easy, each trip you take, roving the Isthmus, a wine darrkened homily, gives me no promise, is it fair to say, you love only the quays, to let a heart quake, what about me ?