Breezy and cold is the night
The land is way out of sight
As thunderstorm hits the sea
This little ship is holding me
Rushing waves soar high
As I'm tossed around I cry
Cold water chills my spine
Holding on tight to the twine
The salt burns my wound
When no help can be found
Fears of drowning prevails
As my weak little ship sails
Then I hear a still small voice
“I am the Anchor”,...
