I cry at her bowl, dogs dying day A bone in her bowl, a watery grave See, I am a sailor, but Im not so great I keep fishin for roadkill, passin out on the waves Shimmering sea, stretched end to end A flickering bowl, A Shivering friend See, thats Mr. Murphy, my leathery brave Hes whimpering Taps now, for his plankwalk parade Ive never been a joiner, no, Ive quit every team Ive been on Now Im crying in my coffee, thats not sea salt in my eyes Cause me and Murphy, we have been through it, and I hate watching him die whistling So I wait for my wisdom, like I wait for my wife Like I wait for a story, helps me wait out the night Like when I was an archer, but I couldnt shoot straight I broke all of mas windows, I poked holes through her drapes And I laugh to myself, but I cant tell you why The hungover sun, sneaks back in the sky But Murphy went peaceful, he went decent and right At least better than I will, when its my turn to die And I wear his collar on my wrist And I bury him down at the beach No crying, no coffin, just a body and a hole No praying, no singing, no saving any souls The only thing Im saving, yeah Is a bone inside a bowl
bowl, murphy, wait, saving, plankwalk