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Phone Line (Skit)

de gray

Toy boat downstream
Tumbling free
Caught in riverbank

Stick tore a hole
Me on the stern
Singing as it sank

Water felt quite warm
And as I was drifting
I thought of home

Tried to stay afloat
But some foul undercurrent grabbed a hold of me

Tossed like a doll
Caught in a sprawl
By the undertow

Gathering speed
I need to breathe
But I'm dragged below

Struggling on my own
Nowhere is solid
Nowhere is home

Now I’ve learnt the rules
My burning lungs shall have their way or down their tools

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