Nobody cares
bout ocean affairs
He's by himself 'cause nobody loves him
Cleaning his sand
Filled boots with his hand
Looking for something but nothing sees him
Happy was he
in spite of his knee
That wasn't there because of his day job
There was a man
who took to the band
paying attention tried to adhere him
And he ran
And he shot
But his rivals were sharp
And the kids
in the sand
struggled finding a plan
Seemingly fine
he sipped on his wine
Terror was healthy but not on a mission
There was a sea
A mystical tease
Our cannons were shot