Sitting on the proverbial dock of the bay
Discussing with my mates, trying to find a way
Seated on the top of barrel roll
Some sort of way, any kind of loophole
That would allow me to somehow be
A pirate of sorts while living another reality
There must be some sort of ambiguity
That would serve my want for the surreality
Of being a man who by day seeks to do right
But wants to be a pirate with the falling of night
Three like minds gave this an arrgh and ahem
Seeking to find some crack within the system
There must be some sort of circumvention
For this child’s play as a matter of intepretation
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