Testo St. Lucie Sound

Without warning a thousand tons to one
As she slicks into the Indian Ocean
Theres a tail five fathoms wide,
As it sinks into Bock Cat Cay
It crowds around the bank in curls

Like those Fourth of July girls
Hanging around the fence in anticipation Of tomorrow
Or maybe she dropped the bomb on the rotor
A ticket shy to buy a plastic fly

Its kind of overcast and theres a dry wind
Its all you want in a simple way
She floats adrift for miles without a captain
There have been much better days than today

Ive got my zip-up on and a shirt with an anchor
It doesnt mean much to me today
I cant tell the difference between a schooner and a mariner
There has to be another way