The moon controls the tides and winds- I consider that my god.

With a mist upon the ground, I can’t cut through this fog.

Once the breeze hit my sails off I go explore.

I lose track of where I’m at, and soon I run a shore.

The sun beats down upon the sand, makes it blazing hot.

A great idea strikes my brain that I simply hadn’t thought,

If I wait til the tide comes in surely I’ll be free.

It’s not absurd- my god had heard my prayers and answered me.

Hello the feeling of being free with the wind back in my hair.

The fog may roll around again but the wine says I don’t care

I can't help but to feel alive- like I can do it all!

How do you know that you’re on top if you’ve never took a fall?