A poet without a mustache. The Magellanic Clouds (№ 164085)

Row the boat, silly.
Nobody can prove anything.
You can this is my
Cost more than it seems.
Rowed to the shore, hard?
Floating away, just left all.
Often our desires are lying to us,
And brings co-ordination circuits.
Row the boat uncomfortable.
Salt will absorb your pain,
You get back another in the morning,
But the shore is another.