As the tide flows by I shed a soft tear,
For all the souls to which I hold dear,
When will it end this sorrowful journey,
Amidst blood and guts and all of us surely,
When the sun sets dim and all is left to sink in,
As my ship sets sail on the noon so frail,
Where will I go when my sails are cut short,
The wind grows calm and I lie still distort,
A wicked storm approaches oh sorrowful sailor,
Which direction will my fortune favor,
A capsized vessel in the vast ocean blue,
Of all the conquests I've left to pursue,
Wax and wane this pale harbinger moon,
Eclipse my fate and hero please not too soon,
The time is at an end as the scythe reaps descend,
I turn to the north as my flesh spews forth,
Face your enemy with a solemn face,
I feel not even a shred of disgrace,
For the battle was well-fought,
I forsake thoughts of distraught,
With my last breath I sing of times past,
With my sails falling low upon the mast,
I refuse to be a desolate outcast,
Let me rest with the reign of kings,
As the sirens spread tales of my gentle wings
