I had this dream where I relished the fray
And the screaming filled my head all day

It was as though I'd been spit here,
Settled in, into the pocket
Of a lighthouse on some rocky socket
Off the coast of France, dear
 
One afternoon, four thousand men
Died in the water here
And five hundred more were thrashing
Madly as parasites might in your blood

Now I was in a lifeboat designed for ten, ten only
Anything that systematic would get you hated
It's not a deal not a test nor a
A love of something fated, death
 
The selection was quick, the crew was picked
In order, and those left in the water
Were kicked off our pant leg
And we headed for home

Then the dream ends when the phone rings
"You're doing alright?", he said, "It's out there
Most days and nights, but only a fool would complain"
 
Anyway, Susan, if you like,
Our conversation as ^[faint as sound in my memory]
^[As those fingernails] scratching ^[on my hull]