Plank Walk

Futile the winds
To a heart in port
Done with the compass
Done with the chart

In the ebb and the tide of diamond waves
Found a siren singing a shipwreck grave
Ere long motions of unrest
Seem born to turn the best
When pleasure leaves a touch at last sweet song only sank fast
Deck bestrewn with falling beams
Silently wailing hymn of death screams
A must be won but cannot win
Yet lost this journey afore its begin
Slip the plank with deepest depths consort
These pleasures sought from wretched siren's sport
Toil forgoes variety of ease as light fades to salty seas
Dropping anchors sweet misery will appease

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