The sea is calling me

The wind in my hair,
the boat in my care,
the freedom that come
with all this slow life,
as the waves sing to me,
as they let me be
whatever I dream, and I am not wrong,
this is no siren song,
I am not playing ping-pong
with your heart.
I am not that smart,
as to plan everything
in the smallest detail,
from hammer to nail,
I just want to sail,
'til the end of time.

If this is my crime,
then let me raise
above heaven and hell,
the salt in my hair,
and all that is fair,
nothing more to care.

Just feel the wind
and hear that wave
hiting the stern
of that wooden boat.

Of that old-ish coat
right behing the moat,
as the storm is coming.

The storm is coming
inside my mind,
the calm before the psalm,
the water realm
and the seahorse that
was sliding near my hat,
the hat that the wind
stole from me,
when I was there, at sea.

You see, you and me,
and the red moon above...