I am an anchor
At least, that's what I like to believe
My job is to keep things in place, nothing more
Although I am quite essential
I tend to get thrown around
People believe that because I'm made of metal
It doesn't hurt when I hit the ground
Here I'll stay, at the bottom of the sea
Waiting and waiting for someone to pull up on me
Maybe they'll come, maybe they won't
But I dream this hope-
That person that will see
Sometimes the anchors want to float

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