the albatross
is soon to find his way across
and in his busy claws

the albacore
a living mindful washed ashore
are we deserving more?

to you, who have not overcome this state
most any refuge might as well be lost
by now, by names, by numbers, carrying this weight
too late, don't wait, don't suffer for this noble cause
my albatross

until you meet
a deathly definite defeat
blow up the trees of dust
the clouds of wheat

until you find
a newly welcoming decline
protect these arms of yours
this heart of mine

must you inherit this unfading grief
that eats me up and secrets me inside
too late, don't wait, don't hope that it can ever leave
by luck, by force, don't think that you can ever hide
it will abide

my faithful guide

my coal black tide

my doubtful bride

keep up your fight