Old cedar planks against the tide
Where the grey gulls like to hide
Sydney skyline glows in gold
A story that the currents hold
Rowing slow on a saltwater line
Drinking in the evening wine
Tracing edges of the harbor blue
Watching as the day turns new
The brass lamp flickers in the breeze
Swaying like the olive trees
I pull the oar through heavy foam
Longing for a place called home
The iron bridge is far away
Painting shadows on the bay
Cold wind bites the weathered skin
Waiting for the night to begin
Rowing slow on a saltwater line
Drinking in the evening wine
Tracing edges of the harbor blue
Watching as the day turns new
Sinking deep in the velvet black
No more way of turning back
Only salt and the scent of pine
Crossing over the silver line
Low tide leaves the rocky shore
I don't seek the harbor more
Just the rhythm of the wood
Understanding as I should
Rowing slow on a saltwater line
Drinking in the evening wine
Tracing edges of the harbor blue
Watching as the day turns new
The harbor blue. The saltwater line.
Rowing slow.
