In a ship facing high waters
What choice is there to make

In a ship that's been through chop
Where should the blame be placed

In the ship that knows its shiphood
That sails with ease and grace

What protection does it need --
This ship?
This heart?
This face?

For one day it'll be done with the sea
And the parts turned into dust

So until that day,
One choice it has...
Follow its compass,
It must.