In times to come, woes in sight
In shadows past no vision of light
When darkness swallows and belches pity
The nitty gritty of pretty merry, I admire
Shall become more of a fairy prayer
The sounding of war drums, follow rushing of waves
Inter-fusion of whaling voices, butchered at sea in piece(s)
Bewilderment of supplications gone awry
An obligation of mercy to show and behold, made void
To stem oozing pain from sighs at moonlight, made void
And moanings from sides torn from buffets
Left to starve on the door step of war drums
Meet me at the place where fear thrives
Where tears cry and whales moan of shallow waters
Where uncertainty is surety, death is a luxury
At the place where happiness has no face
And destitute, grips like a fever pitch
Then talk to me about misfortune, you lucky bustard
