Lopsided

This is the accent of the halfhearted land
Does it all make sense now
And if the ship was built in bottled sand
Does it all make sense now
The anchor’s kiss was scrawled in dyslexic crayon
Yes it all makes sense now
Is this just a life preserver
Or a bivouac tenure
The tropic of cancer answered,
«drink the quicksand'
A mirror was splintered on the deck floor
Does it all make sense now
A stowaway that lived beneath this hull
Does it all make sense now
The anchor’s kiss was scrawled in dyslexic crayon
Yes it all makes sense now
Is this just a life preserver
Or a bivouac tenure
The tropic of cancer answered,
«drink the quicksand»
Its gills will swin faster after a breath from the shore
Breathe the taste of salt water
Dry heave up and overboard
Ponce de leon wrinkles
Let’s make it young again
Boat drinks for captains
Row our boat stowaway
It all makes sense now
If our map was torn, navigate, navigate
If your compass broke, navigate, navigate