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.