Welcome to the port… where no ship sails twice. Lanterns burn with borrowed flame, Every light remembers a name. Old guitars hum to bones and sand, No one leaves, we understand. This is the Port of Lost Souls, Where the tide forgets and the bell tolls. Whiskey and ghosts at the edge of the quay, The sea takes all, eventually. A hurdy-gurdy drones like a prayer, Echoes of lives still hanging there. The fiddler laughs, the trumpet cries, Every note another goodbye. Raise your glass, let the harbor sing, The storm will come, the end will ring. We are the songs the sea controls — And this is the Port of Lost Souls. The sea remembers. Always.
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