Текст: Swingin' Utters. Circular Highway. Beached Sailor.

Off all the blessed intervals that defined ourselves as one I may remember only the last, as it's the interval you won I've thought about it and I just don't know (don't know quite where to go) I've been trying to relax, but can't remember how (a bit of rest is what I need now)
I've been a sailor, but a sailor who has never left his land who's trued to occupy an unstable mind with ridiculous daydreams
now come the testing times where I dip my small toe in though the deepest waters freeze, if I jump in I'll be free I'm all along, and that's just as well (Without you facts do tell) fond whispers of unfound secrets, I still cant hear them so pray tell
I can't accept it, (I'm a beached sailor) cause I don't understand it (I'm a beached sailor) I'm lying stranded, (I'm a beached sailor) like a beached sailor