ships that don't come in

i could tell he'd had a tough life, by the way he sat and stared, and me, i'd come to push and shove, so i pulled up a chair. we talked of roads untraveled, we talked of love untrue, of strings that come unraveled, we were kings and kindred fools, and just when i'd hit bottom, that old man raised his glass, and said at least we had our chances, there's those who never have. so here's to all the soldiers, who have ever died in vain, the insane locked up in themselves, the homeless down on main, to those who stand on empty shores, and spit against the wind, and those who wait forever, for ships that don't come in. he said it's only life's illusions, that bring us to this bar, to pick up these old crutches, and compare each other's scars, 'cuz the things we're calling heartache, hell, they're hardly worth our time, we bitch about a dollar, when there's those without a dime. and as he ordered one last round, he said i guess we can't complain, god made life a gamble, and we're still in the game. so here's to all the soldiers, who have ever died in vain, the insane locked up in themselves, the homeless down on main, to those who stand on empty shores, and spit against the wind, and those who wait forever, for ships that don't come in.