Search for me when the tides are low.
My body will have washed ashore by then.
This ship I've built
Is now my grave.
You always drag me down
One with these waves.
One hundred men
Dead on the deck
Their cries of terror
Forever haunt these waters.
No!
Father, forgive me!
Leviathan!
Oh, wretched being!
40 fathoms, lost to the depths
(40 fathoms below)
Bits of wood and broken dreams
Form a rotting mosaic on the water's surface.
O' is this the rapture?
A lifetime of blackened water.
The sailors' carcasses
Kiss the horizon as the sun sinks
And darkness claims those who remain.
The smell of blood marks us for death.
If only I had not strayed
So far from your hands.
