A high tide, that's all I want.
A violent wind, filled with whispers.
Take me, against my thoughts and ropes,
That I may wreck on your shores and foolishly hope.
It's this poor man's rum, I think,
That builds in me these crazy thoughts.
Night in, night out, it has me broke
Inside these salted halls, black, crooked and choked.
Against all reason I do love,
Your face upon a moon this night.
Come nymph, and dance with me this art,
The drunken song I sing, the secret in my heart.
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