This Is Hell

Dearest Midge

This Is Hell


I'm writing this while on the high seas 
And I mean higher than the days we spent shooting the breeze 
This ship is rolling quite a bit 
But you know me, I'll never get sick (never get sick) 
I wish I could tell you where I'm going 
But I think it's pretty clear (think it's pretty clear) 
I wish I could tell you I'm sailing home 
But that is not the case I fear (never get sick) 
That's not the case (never get sick) 
Dead last in this race 
Ten months since I've seen your face 
Lord how I miss you... 
This ship trudges away from the center of my heart 
And if not for these cards I'd be fucking dead 
This ship trudges away from the center of my heart 
And if not for these cards I'd be fucking dead