Havana moon, on the lazy bay, The tide don’t talk, but it knows what we say. We came from the storms with nothing to keep, A chest full of songs and a promise to sleep. The walls sweat rum, the floor hums low, And the night keeps watch where the trade winds blow. Sailors in Havana, lost in the tune, Drunk on memories and the old monsoon. Steel strings cry, old hearts sway, The sea took all — but we still play. A woman’s laugh cuts through the smoke, A trumpet sighs, the shadows choke. The captain’s ghost still keeps the bar, Counting stars that fell too far. Sailors in Havana, fading away, The tide rolls in, the band won’t stay. No map, no flag, no God to pray — Just a song for the ones that drift away. And the sea hums back… compañero.
