| In the age of electricity and oil
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| My tugboat ploughs through waveless liquid soil
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| Cruising at thirteen knots on a pitch black sea
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| There’s a strange object on the radars
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| In front of me. |
| Still nothing I can see
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| Just an open dreary sea…
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| Several attempts to contact that
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| What appeared to be the size of a ship
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| No response 'till I receive
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| Transmissions of hostile nature
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| These voices cursing my goddamn name
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| Hell, is this witchcraft or am I insane?
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| All of a sudden a dark silhouette
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| Ascends through ghostlike mist
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| While it comes closer, I recognize
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| The image of an old deserted ship
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| I am aghast at the sight of a derelict vessel
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| Sailing this awkward night, appearing like a black
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| Floating cadaver. |
| There’s not one single man aboard
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| Her torn sails cloaking her like a cobwebbed widow
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| Posing against this sad nightmarish horizon
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| The temperature suddenly dropped
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| My great-grandfathers clock, just ticking, now stopped
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| I am smothered by a sudden shroud of fear
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| For there’s a ghost ship 'pon a funereal quest
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| With a black bird circling hypnotic
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| Around its rocking empty crow’s nest
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| Fortunately this atrocious mystery sets sail away from me
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| Some sailors claim other seamen beheld such sights
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| Most died weird deaths during fog-clad days and nights
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| The ship vanished as suddenly as it appeared
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| Should I feel fear? |
| Was it even here? |