Alone on an island, on its beach where I lay,
where the ocean moves slowly, and the palm trees sway.
I look in the distance, where I see just the tip,
Of the bow that remains of my now-sinking ship.
Didn't know how it happened, my heart's filled with woe,
Survived by myself, the rest is down below.
A fisherman I was, on this unforgiving sea,
Catching our dinner, for myself and family.
My life was a chore, and my wife played the whore,
As soon as my feet stepped beyond our door.
I'll admit I wasn't rich, and didn't have much,
my children not my own; my mind out of touch.
As I lay down here, thinking of what I had,
I soon realize...this ain't half bad!
Why carry with me the things that I've sown,
when I still have my mind, the only thing that I own?
I'd rather stay here, this island as my lease,
My own deserted treasure is my heart filled with peace.