Senior Year

Look at the moon, but not to gaze Just see the stars, and clear the maze But I just can't seem to grip onto The wheel Was not prepared for stormy seas Because my eyes had been deceived Listening to those who thought they knew The deal Does it feel like we'll be blown away with the wind Or get by improvising just like back then I'm checking the map but no one's sailing along The same routes anymore I'm not getting through unscarred But not giving up this far Sail for blissful, baleful shores