Bound for distant shores,
Never to return again,
To this land of thieves and whores.
The ship ye sail is held with nails,
And blood spilt on the bow,
Once a ship for fighting men,
She bursts with beauty now.
One of these days, I’ll stow away,
And every night thereafter,
Fall asleep to the sirens’ songs,
And the hymn of my own laughter.