With

Six long months at sea,

now a warmer current brings

echoed fragments of a song I think we wrote.

With a worn thin book of maps

and our faith so full of holes

it's a miracle we even stayed afloat.

We could taste the salt through our fingertips

and knew the time had come,

so we said goodbye to the lives we'd lived

and pulled our anchor up.

Now we scrape the barnacles from our hearts

and we row the boat to shore, hallelujah.

You can feel the end even as we start.

We row the boat to shore, hallelujah.

Just on[?] letting go all the things I used to own.

Now I guess the tides are changing once again.

I got so goddamned good at navigating on my own,

but I guess it's time to bring the old boat in.

Well, I've worked so hard to get my sea legs,

and I've earned these calloused hands.

But I drank this ocean down to the dregs;

now I'm thirsty for dry land.

Now I scrape these barnacles from my heart

and I row the boat to shore, hallelujah.

I heard sirens sing themselves apart,

so I row the boat to shore.

I row the boat to shore, hallelujah