. .
I'd like to have a name like Silver
where no-one could rhyme nothing with me.
Just my worth would fluctuate like
the swells out on the sea.
Where men spend their time battling time,
sliding their Morgan dollars, hiding their sad eyes.
Words spend their time battling rhyme, as
pirates paint the walls in darkened taverns with venomous lies.
The gallows of destiny
sway in the wind.
Guardians of the afterlife too soon and
abruptly unpinned.
Stormy walls of loneliness
close in, showing no mercy.
Thieving crews have been assembled
to come rob the vast vaults of Persephone.
Tossed about like rag dolls above, the
sea surface swells as a west wind blows.
Like a giant squid in a crevice,
hell awaits each one in the shadows.
Drunken maidens sing around the piano
as they earn Morgans and slur ancient tales cryin'.
You could always tell when the moon was full
that they had all been lyin'.
As death took each one over the starboard side,
the captain's ghost peered through the port holes.
Then the crazy sea suddenly seized and it
belched forth their souls.
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maralisa
