Rocky cliffs guide gilded shores
Towards fractured vessels, splitting oars
Wanted men won’t rest so sure
While rumors run of wild boars
Makeshift tents for counting scores
A king could never ask for more!
Swinging winds and gusts of gale
Paint the men a winter pale
In turn a tide will tremble true
Upheaving heaven, oceans too
What riches wrought and sought to gain
Instead are found through trials trained
By thickened ichor, licks of liquor
Piping lips and psalms with flickers
Befalls the shore a withered way
What once was gleaming green is grey
And yet the song it sings remains
A pallid waste of words contained
In boxed emotions, scarlet stains
Broken glass and large amounts
Of pain
