Where Old Sailors Go to Die

I made a fool of myself for love
But better for that than for hate
Better than sinking to rise above
The roaring tide early than late

Now late I want to do it again
From what I can remember
Having forgotten about the pain
Here in this mid-December
If only to keep warm
In safe harbor from the storm
Until the spring returns when I
Sail to return no more

There where old sailors go to die
Love beckons from the shore

+Steven Curtis Lance



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