Third month out, becalmed for days and now Poseidon seems to want our progress stayed unknown in these high latitudes this stillness wracks our thin-streached nerves in this endless greyness. I heard an old sailor's tale a yarn spun to scare for into no gyre we'll go - tho' they say they feel the Maelstrom's tug I cannot believe it's true
Days ago this sailor's myth seemed vague now we know how real it is the ship rolls and pitches endlessly the waves roll on and the eyes go dull and the sea it pulls us Down into this sailor's tale damned before the storm and into the gyre we'll go I think I feel the Maelstrom's tug on our ship, my mind and my soul.