The wind blew steady over fields o' willows
He flew with it, heading to the East
Oh, his scent still lingered on her pillow
She was left to clean after the feast

As he caught the morning boat
The wind picked up a little note
Upon which he drew and wrote
Some symbol of affection

Just as that old wind had claimed
Her kind gesture of the same
Feeling that could not be named
Some personal projection

Think of poor Odysseus returning
After all those lonely nights at sea
In his mind, a vision of her burning
As she waited for him patiently

Suiters lined the palace halls
Wine that stained his bedroom walls
Made the hero feel so small
Upon his arrival
Had he suffered far too long?
Had he heard the Siren's Song?
Was the killing truly wrong
Or for his survival?

Thinking that her memory was drawing
Wondering if he had been forgot
All of this is kind of funny sounding
But it wasn't much more than a thought

Never waste your precious time
Chasing paper valentines
Say whatever's on your mind
Before you write it down

Never sail a ship alone
Never argue on the phone
You can only hear a moan
Listen for the sound

Wind blew steady over fields of willows
He flew with it, heading to the East
Oh, his scent still lingered on her pillow
She was left to clean after the feast