Two Years Before The Mast

Two years spent before the mast
And no one knows the secrets that we're hiding
If word got loose, you'd face the lash
And thirteen loops would hold me fast and silent
Things are not always as they seem to be
Outside us
Devil got poor persephone
But they can't take
They can't take you from me
They can't take you from me
Can't take you from me
Can't take you from me

Mr. jones done made a mistake, it's all business
Worse thing than the watery grave with poor rictus
I found and bound a barrel of grain in the hold, listless
So hollow, half out of dismay, frayed princess
I guess i've gone soft on my age, they call it instinct
The rebels get the devil to pay her, the cat hissing
Gonna start, i know i oughta send her to the brig
But strongest, not scared, and still bothered with calm winds
And all things aren't what they seem to be and
Small walls separating earth from eden
One rib did give eve a meaning
And one snip might could keep a secret
With the short hair there and a change of clothing
Fit right in and work soak and oakum
Four fortnights she'll annul with the opium
I might slip by, but for her and boatswain

Two years spent before the mast
And no one knows the secrets that we're hiding
If word got loose, you'd face the lash
And thirteen loops would hold me fast and silent
Things are not always as they seem to be
Outside us
Devil got poor persephone
But they can't take
They can't take you from me

Clip of her shears
Twist of her hair
To the air, handsomely
'til it floated down on the cloud
Reflected on the glassy sea
And the winds disappear
Stripped almost bare
Bathe in a transfixed state
And all things are what they seem to be
She floated next to me
Just out of reach

There is no knot so steadfast
It won't go broke in the middle of monsoons
You both don't show, waiting, watching
With wet lips, your clothes soaked through
Blinded mind of the red sky and oxide clouds
The injustice of feds made in wisconsin
Blooms coupled up with the stem means there's no rain
Once you poked a bridge against the bulkhead, the world pitched
Pulled to your shit with soft needs and the soap stone

Mr. jones is the poor soul who walked into a tempest
And this time two poor fools
Give them a whipping and head sail quirks quick lose
The best men can end when the storm rolls through
So we paid our keep
For the sin of a reckless dream
In the seam where secrets sleep
Between me, her, the devil and the deep blue sea

Two years spent before the mast
And no one knows the secrets that we're hiding
If word got loose, you'd face the lash
And thirteen loops would hold me fast and silent
Things are not always as they seem to be
Outside us
Devil got poor persephone
But they can't take
They can't take you from me
They can't take you from me
Can't take you from me
Can't take you from me