I wanted confessions
And Vulnerabilities in bottles
That would be set sail,
On tears and tomorrows.

Sand made your Guns lock;
The stars would soon follow
Our imminent discourse
Of loves lost, and sorrows.

Before us great oceans
And lands full of snarls
We went without shoes
Or even our towels

We failed quite miraculous
You tripped, and I followed
And left broken our bottles
Which then cut us hollow.