Panting At The Gills

You took me to the port of your joy I held your hands I anchored there I bathed in oils, and I wasn't coy, we made waves together, everywhere I found you to be some tropical island ferns, palms vales, and rolling hills… breasts like the Scottish highlands air thin, left-us panting at the gills. You said, ssshhh… like the call of the sea so, it was, I left my ship, swam ashore I fired everything I had and still more I fastened my life to your own bowsprit I sank that ship for land legs I drank everything I could procure even till those last few final dregs but even now, the sea still calls ssshh I guess it'll take a while to find my legs.