The Wishing Well

A carefree stint on a clear coast
It was a rampage but I lost direction
The satellites are outdated
New road signs name places that have always been there
I always talk calamity
Beneath the shiny waves
An undertow waits on me
Put this insomniac to sleep
A stone's throw dipped toe
A breeze to make you blush
No emergencies no bulletins to leach on us
In the absence of distraction
There's no charm in ravaging the splendour
To persuade this thief to stop
Is like asking an insomniac to sleep
The water drowns me out
I am a distant murmur
Don't wear yourself out
Don't run yourself down
Still stealing silver from the wishing well.