You waste away your days at work Awarding time a tighter grip You dream of all the champagne dashed Across the hulls of sunken ships A glass that always sits half full It's seeming only natural So tip it back and drink it down A toast to all the souls that drowned You counted on the ghost of chance To write the song that wrote itself The first time you heard its was When you were singing it to yourself But how did your mouth get so full It's seems so impossible The only chance you hope to get Is to be pulled out of the wreck