Boat on a hill, never gone to sea. Anchored to a fixer upper's dream. This boat is beat, never gonna be a boat now. Thirsty, sees the sea from high on ice plant. He keeps patching it and painting. Think about his pension plan. But the boat is out to pasture. Seems it never had a chance. I wanna be a boat. I wanna lean to swim. Then I lean to float. Then begin again. Begin again. Boat Remembers carpenter's sure hand. Missing fishy flutter on its rudder. Sold at an auction, on a dolly ever since. Sometimes rainy days drop boyish wonder. Blake Schwarzenbach 1994. 