won't you teach me to sail, out there
upon your rugged blue ways
where i may ride you in gallant
through the perfect storm that we are
i want to know what it feels like
to climb your steep mast that creaks, and
moans as i dip in your swell that lifts
me until i feel your main being torn
by the wind in my want
i want to know your sweet knots
and the ice cream you like,
how your hair stays perfectly
chaotic as you bolt from cleat
to sheet with barely a give a damn
there, that's it! that smile
that puts oceans to shame,
moons to silly, and those
crazy shorts that should,
but never do quite fall down
i want to know the music you hear
and how the reef echoes your drums
up through the keel, deep in your bilge
causing us to fear but not turn back
oh how i long for the salt of your spray
and the tenderness of your lee
as we Caribbean our cares behind us
and drink the sweet stolen mango
evermore the sweeter in stolen
can't you see it, Babe?
the tide is going out and it's ours
to master without sexton or star
if only you can show me the way
i've turned out the lamp
and brought my knife
to christen the line that holds us
to the anchor of our doubts
