These islands once made their trade,
by building ships upon the beach,
the whole town lived along the harbor,
to watch them carve out ships out to sea
With winter storms coursing through them,
they nurtured fires on through the night,
the beacons on the highest clifftops,
would tempt in ravaged ships with their light
While bodies lay across the rocks,
they salvaged cargo to the shore,
the empty hull now in still waters,
was a ship they built here the year before.
And standing here, these places hide all their times (repeat).