At the edge of the world, where the tide slaps hard, We hoist our hopes like sails on guard. No compass, no map, no lady’s cry Just the stars above and the devil’s eye. The harmonica wails like a ghost in chains, Drums like thunder, salt in veins. We chase the wind with cursed grace, Each wave a card in time’s own ace. Heave ho, no port in sight, We drink to the dark and the dying light. The sea is a mistress with salt on her breath, She dances with fools and sings of death! 🎵 We’ve buried dreams on distant sands, With broken flags and blistered hands. But still we sail, and still we sing Of lands we lost and ghosts that cling. Heave ho, no port in sight, We laugh with the waves through storm and night. Our fate’s not gold, nor woman’s kiss, But the endless blue… and songs like this! Some say we’re mad, some say we’re damned, But we dance on decks no gods have planned. And when the fog rolls in to claim We vanish slow… without a name. Port without a name… Still we sail, still we flame. No gravestone, no fame… Just the wind… and the same old game.
