Listening to the sea,
that dark looking glass
like the watchboy they ask
about the night, my brother,
the black mirror you see,
I know almost nothing about,
I heard a dirge of burning longboats
like the songs the dead sing
to put me to sleep, my death,
if I could tell you about it,
my Captain, I would but I slept
right through it, not dreaming.

I feel as though I'm swimming in an ocean of despair.
Slowly losing my mind to those who have long since lost theirs.
I do not want to think about what darkness lurks abound.
For everywhere I turn it seems that hatred can be found.
And thus exists an endless cycle: anger, fear, and hate.
While love is left abandoned with a thirst it cannot sate.
And lost amongst destruction that, alone, we cannot halt.
Stricken by the idea that this cannot be our fault.
And so we pray and mourn the loss of all those who did fall.
Shedding tears and hoping that someone will hear our call.
But voices fall to empty ears, they will not hear our cry.
An echo is so hard to hear, unless you truly try.