I had this dream where I relished the fray
And the screamin' filled my head all day
It was as though I'd been spit here
Settled in, into the pocket
Of a lighthouse on some rocky socket
Off the coast of France, dear

One afternoon, four thousand men died in the water here
And five hundred more were thrashing madly
As parasites might in your blood

Now I was in a lifeboat designed for ten, ten only
Anything that systematic would get you hated
It's not a deal nor a test nor a love of something fated (death)

The selection was quick, the crew was picked in order
And those left in the water
Got kicked off our pant leg
And we headed for home

Then the dream ends when the phone rings
"You doing all right?"
He said, "It's out there most days and nights
But only a fool would complain"
Anyway, Susan, if you like
Our conversation is as faint a sound in my memory
As those fingernails scratching on my hull

Copyright: Peermusic Publishing
Writer(s): Gordon Downie, Gordon Sinclair, Johnny Fay, Paul Langlois, Robert Baker