I've never felt so lost beforenI guess it comes with agenAnd every year I'm more awarenOf every passing daynnFloating deeper out to seanI can't see through the skynIt seems more helpless and more deepnnThe less I seem to trynnBut what am I and where could this driftnbe pullin' me throughnWould it come out at you?nWould it come out at you?nnPoint the raft west from the sunsetnTry to catch the breezennCold sweeps through the widening cracksnSink into the seannBut what am I and where could this driftnBe pulling me throughnWould it come out at you?nWould it come out at you?