[Intro — spoken low, guitar alone] A thousand souls on ten dark ships, a hundred souls in each, one ship in every harbor, and one the storm won't reach. No chart can say which harbor, no lamp, no bell, no sign — just ten ships in ten harbors and the ocean keeping time. [Verse 1] Now every soul in every hold draws one lot from the sea: one chance in ten, no more, no less, wherever they may be. The cook, the child, the chaplain, the stowaway below — nine harbors will be broken, just one where no winds blow. [Verse 2] Then the current turns at midnight and drags them to one bay: a thousand packed in harbor one, the other nine sit grey. What's changed below the waterline? Go ask the souls aboard: their fates are lashed, but odds unchanged — one in ten, as before. [Chorus A — steady, reasonable] Ten ships, one storm — Imagine how I'll feel when an empty harbor's warm. I mean to save somebody, not gamble every life. So send them through the crossing — I'll call it sacrifice. [Verse 3] You couldn't bear the silence where nine grey harbors lay, so you sent nine hundred sailors out before the break of day. Of every hundred souls you sent just ten would make the shore — now there's a face in every harbor, and someone's saved for sure. [Bridge — harder, accusing] Every soul you scattered had one chance in ten to keep; you made it one in a hundred and you bought yourself some sleep. No one's chances rose that night, not the stowaway's, not the mate's — the only odds the crossing raised were your odds of saving face. [Chorus B] Ten ships, one storm — Don't tell me how you'll feel when an empty harbor's warm. Your regret is not a body, your comfort's not a life; you drowned them in the crossing and you called it sacrifice. [Verse 4 — rumbling bass] The glass is falling on the pier, the storm has not yet come; no chart can name the harbor it will leave beneath the sun. But for every one who reached the shore there are nine who lie below: you bought a few survivors, sure — and paid the undertow. [Final Chorus — low unison crew] Ten ships, one storm — Don't tell us how you feared an empty harbor warm. Your regret is not a body, your comfort's not a life; you drowned us in the crossing and you called it sacrifice. [Crew, slower] One in ten was ours to keep — you sold it for your sleep. [Outro — solo voice, soft but clear] Ten ships, one storm, just one harbor will be warm. There's a face in every harbor — you've saved face for sure.
