The tongue is a rudder;
I'm clueless how to sail.
The ships abound in the harbor;
the crew is clinging to the rail.
If I make it out to sea alone,
casualties will be low.
There my rudder will be freed;
where I toss about, to and fro.
If I trust the good Captain,
I can learn to use my lips.
Though, even with a mended rudder,
I'll still go down with the ship.
