| Oceans of madness darkened,
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| Alone on hell she rides,
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| Lichen undead and rotten,
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| Dripping and dignified,
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| She combs with violence upon the wailing storm,
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| This spectral ship of doomed purgation barrels on awry,
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| On stirring seas of salted blood,
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| Condemned to forge her sails forevermore,
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| Enslaved her hull will never reach the shores,
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| Damning waters of irony filth
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| 'Neath the stench of crimson winds her sails of flesh betorn,
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| Red skeletons are oaring the plasma stains their bones,
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| Her rusting cannons fire blindly in the mist,
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| This haunted vessel lost and damned the prisoners of her endless quest,
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| A burial, at ancient sea, that cannot rest, in fucking peace,
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| The crew of wraithlike revenants, merely seek peace and reverence,
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| from purgatorial permanence, their cursed bondage has no end, on they ride
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| through the throes of ceaseless night her will never dies.
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| The compass pointing straight to hell and that is where they’re going,
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| Beaten by curling waves of red the storm no signs of slowing now,
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| On Stirring Seas of Salted Blood condemned to forge her sails forevermore,
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| Enslaved her hull will never reach shores,
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| Damning these waters of irony filth, scabbed with the blood of the ones they
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| have killed, the ghosts of war must soldier on. |