Letras: This Is Hell. Dearest Midge.

I'm writing this while on the high seas
And I mean higher than the days we spent shooting the breeze
This ship is rolling quite a bit
But you know me, I'll never get sick (never get sick)
I wish I could tell you where I'm going
But I think it's pretty clear (think it's pretty clear)
I wish I could tell you I'm sailing home
But that is not the case I fear (never get sick)
That's not the case (never get sick)
Dead last in this race
Ten months since I've seen your face
Lord how I miss you...
This ship trudges away from the center of my heart
And if not for these cards I'd be fucking dead
This ship trudges away from the center of my heart
And if not for these cards I'd be fucking dead