[Spoken Word] "So you want to hear what happend after do ya? They thought One-Eyed John dead. We all did. The sea closed over him, over the gold, over the Salty Maiden, black hull crackin’ and sinkin’ like a guilty thought. The waves smoothed out after, calm as a liar’s smile. Folk say that’s how the sea buries its mistakes. But the sea don’t forgive. It remembers. Down in the depths, where pressure crushes prayer and time means fuck-all, John drifted. The gold wrapped round him like a lover turned jealous—melted into bone, burned into soul. His dead eye socket filled with a dull, hungry glow, and his heart started beatin’ again, slow and wrong. Then the timbers creaked. Planks dragged themselves back together. Nails crawled home. The Salty Maiden woke up. She rose from the deep, black hull scarred and swollen, sails torn to ribbons but still clingin’ to the masts like shrouds on a corpse. Barnacles crusted her sides. Seaweed hung from her rails like dead men’s hair. And the crew came back with her. Men I saw die screamin’ clawed their way onto the deck, coughin’ up brine instead of breath. Eyes hollow. Skin pale and tight. Some still had knives stuck in ‘em from that last night on the island. None of ‘em spoke. John stood at the helm again, his hand fused to the wheel, beard drippin’ black water. The map lay before him—same cursed thing—but it never stayed still now. Lines crawled. Islands bled away. The treasure was always ahead… always just outta reach. That was the curse, see. Not death. Endless wantin’. The sea itself passed judgment. It gave John what he earned: the gold, the ship, the crew—and no fuckin’ end to it. The Salty Maiden sails still, black against the fog, defyin’ death ‘cause death won’t have her. When other ships spot her torn sails, their compasses spin. The wind dies. Lantern light bends wrong. And if there’s gold aboard—oh, she smells it. John don’t shout orders no more. He don’t need to. The damned crew move like they share one rotten thought. They board quiet. They take the gold. Sometimes they take men too. Those marked by greed feel it after—the pull. The whisper. The dream of black sails and a one-eyed captain laughin’ through broken teeth. HAHAHAHAHA!! Me? I live lean now. No shine on me, no chains o’ gold. I ain’t temptin’ fate twice. So heed this, sailor, ‘fore ye chase riches past sense or sail too far where the maps end: One-Eyed John still hunts. The Salty Maiden still sails. And the sea still collects what it’s owed. Now drink up… and keep yer eyes on the horizon." [Spoken Word ends]
