Bill Hicks
Bill Hicks
Bill Hicks
Bill Hicks
Bill Hicks
Bill Hicks
Bill Hicks
Bill Hicks
Bill Hicks
Bill Hicks
Bill Hicks
Bill Hicks
Bill Hicks
Bill Hicks
On a boat, in the night, you might see a light
It might be red, or green, blinking or white
You can stand by the rail, looking out through the black
You can feel like a cat, tied up in a sack
But that one little light will make everything right
The water will hiss when it's cut by the bow
The gulls are like ghosts as they sweep past the prow
On a trawler 100 yards starboard some guy
With a beard gives you half of a wave as you pass
With your arms on the rail and your eyes on the sky
In the cars all around there are people and sound--
Kids tired and restless, lovers entangled
Surfers and lawyers and grammas with bangles
And ankle tattoos, it's not an Ark it's a zoo
And that one little light is what's seeing you through
At some point the other side comes into view
Lit by the red and green harbor-mouth markers
They're winking together and then out of sync
Like two heartbeats that merge and then drift apart
As we lie close together, and silently listen
Eyes shut tight, arms wrapped around a new start