Old Man and The Sea EDM

Look. Eighty-four days in the drought, salao in the bone, An old man named Santiago, sailing out on his own, No Manolin in the skiff, the luck had withered away, But the ocean still whispers what the tourists can’t say. Day eighty-five, he rows deep, past the line of the shore, Hooking a massive marlin, entering a three-day war. Hands bleeding, raw flesh, line cutting the skin, Tell me, how do you fight a brother you’re trying to win? He harpoons the giant, ties him tight to the wood, A beautiful prize, doing exactly what he should. But the smell of the blood brings the shadow of the shark, The Makos and the shovelheads swimming out of the dark. He fights with a knife lashed to an oar, fights with a club, But the sea is a stomach and it demands its grub. They tear at the flesh, rip the prize to the bone, Leaving only a skeleton for him to carry back home. Defeated but unbroken, he sleeps and dreams of the lions on the beach, Knowing some things in this life are just out of our reach.