Rolling of a broiling and boiled red sea swift sticky sick twisted greenery netting licking at our heels at pillars of strength O' mighty Achilles pulling for bronzed treasure but the marble temple stands and our idols fall crafting a crown of sin but who is the idol of the sea?
The compass the stars the moon
The sailor prays to his Women the captain for his Men
Heaving and **'ing of storms brewing since long before the Men knew the Women and the captain knew his god How heaven unloads a thunderous sigh belching a quelling force
Sheets shape figures in the dark tip louder, louder, darker, darker colder than wet clutch yourselves close because you're all that's left open your eyes and see the real god
You are not a Man there is no Woman You are flotsam I am eternal.