driftwood

As the driftwood floats in with the morning tide,  

Its final destination the waves decide.  

A seagull lands to rest her weary wings;  

Beneath the waves, whales and dolphins sing.  

For deep down in the darkness of the ocean floor,  

Titanic's twisted wreck still holds such secrets  

In its rusting decks and watertight doors.  

It's the wild unknown beauty of the endless sea,  

So take my hand, beautiful Siren of pale beauty,  

And submerge yourself with me. 

---

Midnight and the long-forgotten funfair—  

It holds such dark, sinister secrets  

In the cold seaside air.  

For the ghost train no longer runs  

Without anyone to scare,  

And boats float so lonely in the tunnel of love  

Without anyone who cares.  

What was once a place of love and laughter  

For any child at heart  

Is now a ghost of seaside towns  

That time has torn apart. 

It never hurts or leaves bruises, being kind.  

---

The barbed wire beaches where once we played—  

Now clouds are barrage balloons, sandcastles decayed.  

The waves at your feet are littered with spent shells,  

And bodies float lifeless in waters that swell.  

Seagulls no longer fly over this shore,  

No longer scavenging as they did before.  

You stand there so beautiful with nothing but a withered flower in hand,  

For Blackpool had fallen to the fatherland.