One thousand fathoms,
ten cables deep
silent we slumber
dead men we
sleep.

Where the frigate birds soar
and the amber lights glow
we watch in a daydream
from
one mile below.

Everything turned on the
spin of the wheel
everything hinged upon
what we could steal and
then the storm came,

hit us off the
Port au Prince,

sunk and no trace, now
we face up to our deeds
as we flow with the weeds
one thousand fathoms deep.