A quieter boat, dog's dying day
A bone in a bowl, a watery grave
See, I am a sailor, but I'm not so great
I keep fishin' for roadkill, passin' out on the waves
A shimmering sea, stretched end to end
A flickering bulb, a shivering friend
See, that's Mr. Murphy, my leathery brave
He's whimpering "Taps" now, for his plank-walk parade
And I've never been a joiner, no, I've quit every team I've been on
Now I'm crying in my coffee, that's not sea salt in my eyes
'Cause me and Murphy, we have been through it, and I hate watching him die
(whistling)
So I wait for my wisdom, like I wait for my wife
Like I wait for a story, helps me wait out the night
Like when I was an archer, but I couldn't shoot straight
I broke all of ma's windows, poked holes through her drapes
And I laugh to myself, and I can't tell you why
The hung-over sun sneaks back in the sky
And Murphy passed peaceful, he went decent and right
At least better than I will, when it's my turn to die
And I'll wear his collar on my wrist
And I'll bury him down at the beach
No crying, no coffin, just a body in a hole
No praying, no singing, no saving any souls
The only thing I'm saving, yeah
Is a bone inside a bowl