I was born dead in the water.
The water, it filled and spilled from my lungs;
Washing out the decay that came from the everyday I had yet to live.
These spores, my spores, infected the sea as far as Tripoli,
Without my knowledge, without my consent.
So on I floated, gorged and bloated,
And when you found me you could not know I was “thee”,
Thee, who had infected the sea,
For I knew not myself.
And upon returning with you,
My eyes once blue, turned to the color of a split pea stew,
From whence I came, without glory nor fame;
I was no longer clean of that original sin, that which I tried to absolve with tonic like gin
For I had spent my dead life soaked in it, and would forever be cloaked in it.
And so I left you on the cliffs, while I floated out to sea screaming: “Oh, the sailor’s life is the life for me”.