The yachts are devising a plan on how to get to the other side of the world
Like sailing explorers cast out at sea;
Meet the smog at some dusky twilight hour,
And see their reflection waving back through a frozen sea.

So I painted a sea route for them
With blue and green brush strokes on the tide,
But I'll be wiping them away soon because I don't want the captain to find them and bring them back;
I want to set them free without their tiniest trace left behind.