Born at Sea
My brothers in arms
Carve a course of destruction,
All hands to the bow lest the day slip your palm
And fall to those who seek to usurp you,
For blood and for gold do all men turn to fools.
We all would lay claim, to a glorious shame,
That burns through the ages and frees us from blame.
For I was born at sea, and I live for the crack of waves on my frame.
A doubt in the dark
Works to chasten my stance,
Cloaking the charter and blurring the mark
Of the route handed down by my fathers before me,
Good men burdened with fire and glory.
I fear for the one, who might hear my song,
And tear me away from the thunder and throng,
For I was born at sea, and I crave the sting of salt on my tongue.
A note in the night
Stills the roar from beneath,
Slating the hunger and stealing the fight
From the knots of my hands and the clench of my jaw,
Sparking a pulse and desire for more.
I burn to know, the lengths you’d go,
To hail me down and tempt me ashore.
But I was born at sea, and I serve under the mast and labour alone.
But I do not ache
For the sins of a sailor,
To thirst for the crush and to suffer the wake
Of a life spent perched on the cusp of a storm,
The heir of abandon and historys scorn.
I yearn for this, to break the tryst,
That tears a man 'tween coast and crest.
But I was born at sea, and I’ll lie in the hand of the hopeless abyss.
