now and again youll remember the sound
|
of the sails waving helpless
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the cables wrapping one another into knots so strong
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youre lost at once if not tossed into the drink and lost beneath
|
a substance so dark yet elementary
|
four winds converge upon a point where your compass
|
spirals round in useless motions mocking everything
|
while bilge collects
|
your cupped hands attempt to shovel out the last few inches
|
and you plead with the gods but they send you no sign
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hold on sailor, hold on brother
|
steady the vessel
|
tall tales of ghosts at sail
|
they spend the afterlife
|
in futile calculation, dead reckoning
|
telltales confuse the sails, direction is lost
|
the winds will spiral round a listless tapestry
|
and youre left all alone under the shine of the moon
|
hold on sailor, tighten the cables
|
steady the vessel
|
its a good life if you dont weaken
|
hold on, hold on
|
|
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|
Tall Tales, Telltales
|
| Cursive |
