From the album Wanderin' Life & Times

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Written by The Elders © 2011
Lyrics by Brent Hoad

Lyrics

Every man has a story, maybe this is mine, bottled in a mystery
Thirteenth of a dozen, a man left behind, workin’ for the company
Never punchin’ my ticket, punchin’ the clock
No fisherman or captain could I be
Never called when my vessel pulled out from the dock
But don’t feel sorry for me

I am building a boat, building an ocean, waitin’ for the rising tide
With my sailor’s rope my right hand of hope
To pull me over the side, I am building a boat

Every game I tried, was rigged from inside
I fell for every scheme like a fool
I bit on every line for a nickel and dime
By every mother’s thug I was schooled
In my backwater town where brimstone rained down
And the river backs up from the sea
I could only dream one day I would leave
But don’t feel sorry for me

I am building a boat, building an ocean, waitin’ for the rising tide
With my sailor’s rope my right hand of hope
To pull me over the side, I am building a boat

I learned a trick or two, I finally got a clue
Worth two to one from all I left behind
I never kissed the maid when I could kiss the mistress
No moonshine when I could drink the wine
Now I’m cook I am captain, a bo’sun and a mate
A navigator lookout and a crew
The wind and the waves will now be my fate
With my very own sailing boat tattoo

I am building a boat, building an ocean, waitin’ for the rising tide
With my sailor’s rope my right hand of hope
To pull me over the side, I am building a boat