Lord Neptune's daughters
sit fast to their rocks
like Grotesque limpets
singing their songs to the sea
for the sirens sing for blood
that of warm blood of mariners

To the howl of the wind
and the dreadful din
as waves crash onto this hell
many ****** are tossed abound
then commence to run aground
onto beaches of razor sharp shells

Hideous screams of victory
echo over this foul land
and these wretches of piscine descent
now feed on the carcass of man.

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris