across the ocean of shimmering waves
far from all land where everything is blue
deep below the surface lie unmarked graves
of sailors and pirates fate has run through

lead by the north star, it always is true
with faint chance of escaping their own past
they band together and form up a crew
pinning their hopes and their dreams to the mast

every voyage may end up their last
so they drink, they laugh, and sail warily
for when the end comes it comes up quite fast
it’s all they can do, face death merrily

and try not to leave behind mossy bones
beneath the waves sleeping with davy jones