I got high
With an art teacher of mine
I learned how to paint
Portraits and landscapes with perspective

But I've been sitting here
The better part of eighteen years
Blank stare blank canvas
In need of a new view
Of some new scenery to render

There's a boat leaving
Where it goes
I don't know

I've been buried alive
My history teacher by my side
Lest I forget those mistakes
That better men have made
The battles fought and lost
Small victories at what cost?

The curriculum is dated
My inspiration fading
A slow setting sun
There's a boat leaving
Where it goes
Well, I don't know
But if it floats
I'm getting on
With or without you

The winds are strong enough
Our native tongues will fail us
Oh, the pleasure I would take
In renaming everything

There are boats leaving
Where they go
I don't know
But it's a chance
To see something new
Will you come with me?