Dead Reckoning

steppers dub trap, sound system fusion, industrial dub trap

+ Show full styles

CUSTOM

(Cut the radio transmission... look at the needle.)

Four bells in the morning with the salt spray freezing on the wheelhouse glass.
I shut down the digital screen because the signal was leading us onto the reef.
The crew in the galley was panicking about the dropping barometer,
While I kept two hands on the wooden helm to bring the vessel relief.
You can't navigate choppy waters when you rely on secondhand advice,
I read the paper nautical chart and checked the depth with a leaded line.
When the channel narrows down to fifty paces between the rocks,
A man trusts his own calculation and leaves the chatter behind.

Watch the needle turn, watch the water rise.
No room for hesitation under stormy skies.
Trust the compass heading, keep the rudder straight,
Steering through the narrows at the harbor gate.

By dead reckoning, cutting through the swell.
Every single marker that we know so well.
By dead reckoning, steady through the foam.
Quiet calculation brings the vessel home.
Yeah, by dead reckoning... (Eyes locked ahead.)
Yeah, by dead reckoning... (Trust what the needle said.)

Some folks want a lighthouse every hundred yards or they lose their nerve,
Crying for an escort vessel every time the fog bank rolls in thick.
I grew up plotting coordinates by hand on a wooden table,
Learning that panic in the wheelhouse is a habit that will make you sick.
We crossed twelve miles of shallow breakers without a scratch on the keel,
While the ones who doubted our bearings are still tied up at the quay.
So secure the mooring lines and let the diesel engine idle down,
Because when you know how to read the water, you own the open sea.

Watch the needle turn, watch the water rise.
No room for hesitation under stormy skies.
Trust the compass heading, keep the rudder straight,
Steering through the narrows at the harbor gate.

(Turn the page. Next chapter.)

Safe harbor!
We cut through the black water on our own!
Safe harbor!
A steady hand that cannot be overthrown!

(Mooring lines tied. Harbor reached.)

2578/7500

(Cut the radio transmission... look at the needle.) Four bells in the morning with the salt spray freezing on the wheelhouse glass. I shut down the digital screen because the signal was leading us onto the reef. The crew in the galley was panicking about the dropping barometer, While I kept two hands on the wooden helm to bring the vessel relief. You can't navigate choppy waters when you rely on secondhand advice, I read the paper nautical chart and checked the depth with a leaded line. When the channel narrows down to fifty paces between the rocks, A man trusts his own calculation and leaves the chatter behind. Watch the needle turn, watch the water rise. No room for hesitation under stormy skies. Trust the compass heading, keep the rudder straight, Steering through the narrows at the harbor gate. By dead reckoning, cutting through the swell. Every single marker that we know so well. By dead reckoning, steady through the foam. Quiet calculation brings the vessel home. Yeah, by dead reckoning... (Eyes locked ahead.) Yeah, by dead reckoning... (Trust what the needle said.) Some folks want a lighthouse every hundred yards or they lose their nerve, Crying for an escort vessel every time the fog bank rolls in thick. I grew up plotting coordinates by hand on a wooden table, Learning that panic in the wheelhouse is a habit that will make you sick. We crossed twelve miles of shallow breakers without a scratch on the keel, While the ones who doubted our bearings are still tied up at the quay. So secure the mooring lines and let the diesel engine idle down, Because when you know how to read the water, you own the open sea. Watch the needle turn, watch the water rise. No room for hesitation under stormy skies. Trust the compass heading, keep the rudder straight, Steering through the narrows at the harbor gate. By dead reckoning, cutting through the swell. Every single marker that we know so well. By dead reckoning, steady through the foam. Quiet calculation brings the vessel home. Yeah, by dead reckoning... (Eyes locked ahead.) Yeah, by dead reckoning... (Trust what the needle said.) (Turn the page. Next chapter.) Safe harbor! We cut through the black water on our own! Safe harbor! A steady hand that cannot be overthrown! By dead reckoning, cutting through the swell. Every single marker that we know so well. By dead reckoning, steady through the foam. Quiet calculation brings the vessel home. Yeah, by dead reckoning... (Eyes locked ahead.) Yeah, by dead reckoning... (Trust what the needle said.) (Mooring lines tied. Harbor reached.)

0/500