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No wind stirs our sails, no oars part the waves below
And no flags the clouds above
And our wake lies still
And no light escapes from the chill: we sail across black seas of infinity

Our masts tear the clouds
Neath our decks babble more and less than human tongues
Our figureheads: grotesques, abhorrently familiar

So look to the skies and learn from the waves: your horizon is the mouth of a grave, and we bring it with us
Yes we bring it with us: closer to the shores you know.

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