The legends lie cradled in the seagulls call, and the promise they made are ground beneath the sadist's fall.

Give us Direction; the best of goodwill; Put us in touch with fair winds. Sing to us softly, hum the evening's song. Tell us what the blacksmith has done for you.

I'll pour a cup to you my darling, raise it up, say Cheerio.

The excrement bubbles, the century slime decays, and the brainwashing government lackeys would have us say it's under control.

In your pomp and all your glory, you're a poorer man than me.

The legends lie cradled in the seagulls call, and the promise they made are ground beneath the sadist's fall.

Ages passed I knew at last my life had never been.