I’d like to buy a frigate for a song.
The tune would be a rousing little ditty.
The leaders I believed in were all wrong,
went one-by-one insane. It wasn’t pretty.
And now I need a ship to keep me strong,
perhaps to sail away and leave the city.
Ship of state. State of art.
Strip shaped core and shellshocked heart.
The waves of doubt are crashing on the shore,
distorting true reflection evermore.