There's an ocean, we can sail outside the far reef
There's a story I could tell if you would let me
But if the land you're comin' from won't let you listen
Take your pen in hand and cut me from this narration

High, hang me high

It's a story of a lad with a tambourine
He did shake it when the vessel came to higher seas
His mother warned him of the perils in the underworld
How he tried to fare, I doubt that you would even care

High, hang me high

Please forgive me if I haven't offered a glass or two
Understand this man's been shaking tambourines for you
There's so much for us to find out in the open sea
But if you prefer the coast then find me a swingin' post
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"Draw the Line"

Someone draw the line

"I am no Christ"

The shimmer of the pseudo-holy is tarnished when the bird is mocking
The glory of the men in holding is for the pseudo to be stalking

Cross me once and I'll forgive you
Cross me twice and it gets hard
Cross me three times and just remember I'm no Christ
Am I the animal, am I the enemy

They find the maps between the pages of the Man made of sorrows
And when their love fears aground, they pawn the ship and they borrow