© Electric Babylon Music Author: M.M.
The horizon is gathering omens and unshed tears, in the sky that
breeds it’s rain with lives and years, I stand in shadows of shelters
trying to re-chart this dream, but the sleepless sea is just an agent of
the unnamed stream.
And that ship that just cleared the harbor, off to some new world or
some ancient star, it’s destination is a requiem for me, for my stop and
stay here in Port Misery.
The telling of all thoughts abide the hearing of mortal reason, every
wish it’s moon every man his season, my life my own fault my own
stupid creature, and the soul’s radio where there should be the song
of god we just get a preacher.
So these shipments of goods and gods own labors, sail for foreign
ports to enrich the living there, and I’m left here with this sump of the
sea, my date and doom in Port Misery.
The untold mercies of the sea wait for ship and sailor, be it the sea
beds sleep or the port of call’s sex, but the land locked Captain can
beg no mercy from this dirt, only the rain fed harvest can he reap.
And these goings that leave scattered the seeds of these makings, are
worlds left with undocumented dreams and wakings, suns that spin
onto a new axis to create the milk of light, suffering sleepers anchored
to the bulk of endless night, so the lien-holders of grief collect their
earthly revenue, be the mines of heaven stripped for this debtors due,
and all of tomorrows yesterdays will make an endless work of sorrow,
for the river has no excess of wealth the sea doesn’t borrow.
And so these ships sacrificed unto the seas endless hunger, set sail to
the unmade lands of life, while I try to outlive this death in me, right
here in the tear swung tides of Port Misery.
When will this hateful sea, send my ship back for me.