What breath it takes the tide Is it from your sunken hollow lungs That the bones may gather at the depths An organ for the ghastly of songs A vessel for the damned adrift on a sunless sea Whisper on white tongues of foam To me of days I've lost to the night And the heart of darkness that draws us so tight Haggard and bent old crow Keens to the crone What do the drowned say? Who man our ships as ghosts And bend our knees to pray For a silent and watery grave