| Diving belle You're all locked-up like a submarine, a diving belle corroding at the seams. Your salty tears leaking out? Or my hungry sea eating its way in? Doesn't matter, I guess. Your lips are well-sealed and mine sink ships. So if it takes years to loosen those bolts, to open that hatch, and peer through your periscope eyes, it doesn't matter. A good sailor can wait. Just let me grab those handles and hold my breath as you go back deep, cold and dark. I'll cling along, just for the ride. |