Lyrics:
Never Weather Beaten Sail

into her limousine. A number on a napkin for the driver it's a place he's never seen. A sea gull sits on a weather-beaten shack, a little fishing boat

piece of mind is setting, when did the weather taste so tart?) (Will running solve a contradiction of makeshift tomes and revelations) (The pious price of buying diction, a speech I never

sails. From ship to ship they checred us as we did sail along, And wished us pleasant weather in rounding of Cape Horn. While beating off Magellan Strait

into her limousine. A number on a napkin for the driver it's a place he's never seen. A sea gull sits on a weather-beaten shack, a little fishing boat