Long ago, or so it seems,
I met the siren of my dreams;
she sang just down the shore from New York City.
And though we both were running scared
to California and Oxford squares,
the lives that we had lived were once so pretty.
So we said we would tough it out
despite the white-capped waves of doubt
that tossed so many sailors years before.
And now the question on my mind
that surely she will ask in kind
is to chose between the siren and the sea.
We know we stuttered when we should have spoke,
we left when we should have held close,
and now we know full well
that to stumble in heaven is to find yourself in hell.