cousteau and the muted skoal

it’s not quite the end though it should be
by all accounts
it’s allright, he’s your friend, or he could be
in small amounts
but you fight to defend any good deed

so it’s one more glass of confidence
and it’s here’s to the last of your providence
and to everything you’ll never be

not a sound could surprise or upset you
it’s all a game
cut down to a size that won’t fit you
and who’s to blame
when you’re bound, paralyzed,
and it hits you

drowning all that remains
of the taste of your fears
it’s a guilty refrain to the innocent years
and to everything you’ll ever be

to the beautiful haze
to the sweet disarray
and to coloring the days into blue

here’s to standing your ground
when you can’t move your feet
here’s to courage you’ve found
at the bottom of the sea
and to everything you may be