Abigale Tempest (2/11)

The Abigale Tempest, a commissioned whaler

With blood and scars from the sea

My mystical skipper, with scars of his own

Handed her over to me

He said there’s too much killin

Of men and our mammals

Never an end of our wars

Just take all the people

Who live for each other

With hopes of each other

With hopes you can even the score

Some peddle potions and liquors from islands

With jewelry from under the sea

Wide-eyed others bearing gifts from their homelands

Etched faces of you and of me

War ladened heroes lost medals of honor

With crutches and canes by their side

Wives and the widows step lightly and lonely

opes of happiness soon to arrive

New moon calling the wind is a whisper

A blanket of blue on the sea

The sound of the silence of wood on the water

Is making its own melody

There’s a light up ahead pointing towards horizons

Of amber waves glistened in gold

The fair hair of a maiden from some other voyage

Bades sailors to stories untold

There’s an unwritten rule, you get what you ask for

But always give back to the sea

There’s only a few who question that logic

You’ll never go sailing with me

The Abigal Tempest will always be sailing

With traces of you and of me

The Abigale Tempest will be leavin for the islands

To give peace an tranquility

MUSIC