Every now and then I'll visit the storm wracked coast where I lost you,
When life became a wreck of driving rain and flashing lightning that blurs lies and truth,
And there at my world's end is beached the rusting hulk of a battleship,
Guns all silent, the grinding of shells and the crash of waves and a dark tower wreathed in mist,
I touch the hull, cold and wet, the plating thick with memories of hope and fate,
All the while knowing I'll never go home again.