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.