7th Wave -

When the horses on the roundabout,

cease to smile,

and the wind whips tarpaulin on,

the deck-chair piles,

and wet pebble-dash looks like skin,

of crocodiles,

I take a ride down by the sea,

take a ride on my trusty steed.

I grabbed life by the handlebars,

and it begged me to stop.

Rode it down the hill,

peddled hard right from the top.

My skin was greedy for the thrill,

of a million rain-drops.

My lungs they gorged on the gushing air,

my eyes like pin-balls darting everywhere.

Well I know,

the 7th wave is the biggest wave,

mother used to say.

But they will roll back,

into the sea the very same way.

I look up and see a thundercloud,

Swoop and rise.

But it’s the starlings from the pier,

I quickly realize,

as my front wheel buckles,

and sends me up into the skies,

and my face skids along wet concrete,

and gets overtaken by my feet.

Well I know,

the 7th wave is the biggest wave,

mother used to say.

But they will roll back,

into the sea the very same way.

The 7th wave is the biggest wave,

mother used to say.

But they will roll back,

into the sea the very same way.

And lying on the ground,

I see the 7th wave roll in.

Like an excited puppy,

tongue out clattering,

and tripping.

I see it as it makes its way,

up the beach;

grasping.

And see it swallowed up by the sea,

so I set fire to my rusty steed.

Well I know,

the 7th wave is the biggest wave,

mother used to say.

But they will roll back,

into the sea the very same way.

The 7th wave is the biggest wave,

mother used to say.

But they will roll back,

into the sea the very same way.