We set off to sea on the last ship this evening. With the wind at our backs, the horizon consumed us like tunnels swallow trains from a track. Our wives and our kids said goodbye, said that soon we'd be back. But the ocean is cruel. We'd be fools to think we'd see them again.
For treasures await. As long as there's air in my lungs it's these treasures ill chase. The maps that we read, no matter how true, should lead us all home. They should lead me to you.
Constellations we trust have been here all along, yet we stray.
It's been months, it's been years. No ones sure where were going but I fear it's in circles again. Bring us wind, speed the current. We're not men anymore, we are slaves. Our end is imminent. Where you go you bring life and then you take it away.
For treasures await. As long as there's air in my lungs it's these treasures ill chase. The maps that we read, no matter how true, should lead us all home. They should lead me to you.
So what if we all just disappeared; and turned to sand? So what if we all just carried on? Blood or bread. Is there something waiting ahead? An island our home? Or are we condemned? Just ships cast away to sail alone?