Friend Ship

[Verse 1] We met where the dock posts lean and the gulls were already loud, boots wet from the same cold edge of the pier, staring out. You had salt on your jacket cuff, I had a hook in my sleeve, and the water kept breathing in, like it knew what we'd need. [Pre-Chorus] When the tide pulled hard on the pilings, you said, "Stay, don't rush" and I learned how a steady hand can feel like a push. [Chorus] You're the boat that finds me home when the fog drops low and thick, the rope I grab without looking, the light on the breakwall strip. When the waves hit hard and ugly, you don't let go, you don't drift— friendship's an open harbor, and I keep coming in. [Verse 2] Summer left its warm plastic chairs stacked by the bait shop door, the ice chest sweating in the bed of your rusted pickup Ford. We laughed at the storm line rolling in, black-backed, fast, and mean, then watched the whole bay turn silver under a ripped-up seam. [Pre-Chorus] The wind had teeth that day, salt stung our eyes and skin, but you passed me the spare dry shirt like it was nothing. [Chorus] You're the boat that finds me home when the fog drops low and thick, the rope I grab without looking, the light on the breakwall strip. When the waves hit hard and ugly, you don't let go, you don't drift— friendship's an open harbor, and I keep coming in. [Bridge] And if the current changes or the shore moves out of sight, we'll read it off the water, one wave, then the next one right. No map, no big speech, just your shoulder by my side as the tide keeps working and the moon keeps pulling tide. [Final Chorus] You're the boat that finds me home when the fog drops low and thick, the rope I grab without looking, the light on the breakwall strip. When the waves hit hard and ugly, you don't let go, you don't drift— friendship's an open harbor, and I keep coming in. [Outro] The gulls still argue overhead, the pilings creak and sigh, and the sea keeps all our footsteps where the shore and memory lie.