The tide will tug at my hips And the salt will dry upon my collar I'll have splinters for oars And I'll break her heart in fourteen places She'll make light of it all As I lay her low Oh Kalypso – Tell me to go We'll sleep to the creaking of timbers The pitch and yaw of empty vessels I'll plot points on a curve Over all her tender navigations Oh my mutinous heart I can't overthrow Oh Kalypso – Tell me to go Maps that end where they begin Will guide us through these bitter winds Through seven years of sad goodbyes Two tiny ships on vast horizons
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