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 I'm in need of a new view of some new scenery to render there's a boat leaving where it goes, well 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, well I don't know but it's a chance to see something new will you come with me?