Grab a seat, make pleat of your thoughts and never retreat
This time no hiding from the whispers of the summer breeze
And from the mimicking furious airs of the north with
the tears of the heavens as its company
Hearken! For the tales of dead was riding the solemn cries of the sea--
as its face feels the foredeck of the voyagers' ship--
wrecked, floating up above, yet dying inside
The old captain has told us the epics of great conquers
Now, he's gone for he's found the peace in tranquility
He is called by death, without regret, his pain found peace in chaos
Soon enough, the tales will deal with the maggots of the withered soils
Soon enough, the dead will colonize the head of the flies that
swarm around the food they found in damps
Then, soon enough, the sea will hide behind
The shield it found in the clay invading its hues, the blues
Yes, soon enough the dead man won't ever rise again
Linger in the complexity of the beauty he's found in hell
Now, the emotions must have bygone
And the words are ice of cold and shallow
Though it's nonsense, wallow!
Until the hidden thoughts show
Because the people in a club only want bob
But you're severed from them
Enough to become an island none to men
Or a bone none to the system
To become a fish none to school
And you'll not be fooled
Yes, the dead old voyager is my grandpa in his deathbed
The story is the memory I had chose to neglect
The maggots are the people in the mud of nowadays
And the sea, the sea is where we last met and
Where we left him, crying, weeping prayers and laughs are what we opted to reply,
his cry haunts me and his smile...
Yes, we were the people in the club,
where bob is all we blubbed about
We were watching him slowly taken away by time
Hard to say but we're waiting for him to die
Then, maybe, we'll be free
No obligations to pay the pain we'd caused him
No debts for he's taken it to his death
We're human... And we forget we were more than that
We left him rot
Like a nonsense of a pet
I'll regret, until the last of my breath