Lions on a Main
Do what’s morbid, like a twisted string around my neck, kissing black sails while watching ships quietly wreck.
The cries of hopeless human demise, clouds bring a cover to shade this grace of lies.
We are kings, lords of a nation.
This cliff we stand on harbors death.
Our crowns darken against the winds.
Manes flowing in this eerie storm.
Hear us call upon the deafening mist, let the water swallow your ship with our approving kiss.
Repentance cannot save your faithless heart, commanding the sea to commit it’s dreary part.
Waves crash against rock.
The fleets cripple on our main.
Us kings watch with all of our grace.
Imagine sea and stone and nothing more, Lions on a main, Kings left in mythologic lore.