I’m just in one of those moods that I can’t seem to shake or wrap my head around.
For that, there’s music, speaking eloquently a feeling not quite processed:
We were born before the wind
Also, younger than the sun
'Ere the bonnie boat was won
As we sailed into the mystic
Hark now, hear the sailors cry
Smell the sea and feel the sky
Let your soul and spirit fly
Into the mystic
When that fog horn blows
You know I will be coming home
Yeah, when that fog horn whistle blows
I gotta hear it
I don't have to fear it
And I wanna rock your gypsy soul
Just like way back in the days of old
Then magnificently we will float
Into the mystic
Van, muh man. Monday morning coming down. Carry on then…
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