The lively mainland quietly fights the lonely shore,
Courage, faith, and endurance.

The rough mast quietly gets pulled into the sun,
The dead lad loudly commanding the mast.
Why does the breeze die?
Sailing calmly on a misty mid afternoon.

Rough captains quietly attempt to navigate,
Seas grow with when more lads plunge to their death,
The men try not to think about the men lost at sea.

They listen for commands,
And pray to go home,
They fight to get to shore.