I think you misunderstand.
It’s not that I do not respect the earth.
I just prefer a watery death
Than one that follows with a hearse.

I do not wish to master death.
That is not a game for me.
I’d much rather live for years,
And bask in misery.

Often, there’s a ship in the distance.
With black sails, and a fainted dark paint,
With trims in red.

And, late at night, when I close my eyes,
I can see the captain,
And as soon as I see his face,
It’s gone.

But always lurking
There in the back of my head.

And there is naught, no doubt in my bones

He is the Minister of Sin.

A letter, to you,
This would’ve been,
If I had a way to send it.
But, that’s okay, you’ll find out
All the same.

When you look to the west,
When you gaze out over the sea,

What is it you think of?

Do you ever think of me?

I would suggest you change your answer,
But that will not change your ending

This ship has but one destination:

Hell.

Often, I stare at the ocean,
Over the railing of my ship.
And I think how easy it would be
To swim till my lungs fill with water.
But instead I fill my lungs with smoke
And I tried for years
To poison the things inside of me
With bottle after bottle.

I am coming back
Do not misunderstand
I’ve got a course set.
And I will hide in every shadow
I am a ghost.

No, I am the ghost.
I am the ghost of every mistake you made
And ever promise that you said.
I am the ghost of a life
That you tried your hardest to forget.

But don’t you forget about me.

No don’t you dare.

Oh, the clouds overhead,
They cast a shadow,
A darkness.
It falls upon my path
I cannot stray
I made it this way.