Old America

It was in Old America
When I was seventeen
I built a boat with my father
He told me tales of the restless sea
His words were fire set to adventure
Their direction was wild and free
My heart had sails and my bones were dreams
Tied to land but tempted by the breeze

Now time moves all
It gives no favors
The distant shores make my blood swell
Abandon home for foreign harbors
and dive head first in the wishing well

My boat is drifting in open waters
My father’s words are revolving
The wind gets caught up in my sails
As the horizon is beckoning

I saw the dream in my father’s eyes
I set a course in a race with time
I sail on to keep those words alive
I saw the dream in my father’s eyes

It was in Old America

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