In the age of electricity and oil,
my tugboat ploughs through waveless liquid soil.
Cruising at thirteen knots on a pitch black sea,
there's a strange object on the radars
in front of me. Still nothing I can see.
Just an open dreary sea...
Several attempts to contact that
what appeared to be the size of a ship.
No response 'till I receive
transmissions of hostile nature.
These voices cursing my goddamn name.
Hell, is this witchcraft or am I insane?
All of a sudden a dark silhouette
ascends through ghost-like mist!
While it comes closer, I recognize
the image of an old deserted ship.
I am aghast at the sight of a derelict vessel
sailing this awkward night, appearing like a black
floating cadaver. There's not one single man aboard.
Her torn sails cloaking her like a cobwebbed widow,
posing against this sad nightmarish horizon.
The temperature suddenly dropped.
My great-grandfather's clock, just ticking, now stopped.
I am smothered by a sudden shroud of fear.
For there's a ghost ship 'pon a funereal quest.
With a black bird circling hypnotic
around its rocking empty crow's nest.
Fortunately this atrocious mystery sets sail away from me.
Some sailors claim other seamen beheld such sights.
Most died weird d**hs during fog-clad days and nights.
The ship vanished as suddenly as it appeared.
Should I feel fear? Was it even here?