Through out my life, the sea was always near

A constant presence just beyond the dune

A constant roaring in my inner ear.

A roar that grew, in time, more loud and clear

(With high tides pulling on a waxing moon)

Through out my life, the sea was always near.

And with that noise - the constant gnawing fear

Of inundation coming very soon;

A constant roaring in my inner ear.

So I built groynes along the coastline there

To hold off the encroaching tidal doom;

Through out my life, the sea was always near:

And those timbers held for many a year,

But nothing keeps the sea at bay - its boom

A constant presence in my inner ear:

And, in the end, the dune burst open here

The filthy tide engulfing every room;

Through out my life, the sea was always near

A constant roaring in my inner ear.