Captain,
We’re now five fathoms deep
And if we go any further
We’re committed to our trajectory.
In moments, there will be
No turning around.
There’s an uneasy sense
Among the crew.
They are wondering why
We’d be armed to the teeth
Heading down towards dark depths
Where only damned souls go
To make deals with the devil.
We’ve told our lovers and our children
Goodbye, for now, and that we’d return
When our ship has precious cargo.
The problem is,
There isn’t any precious cargo,
Is there?
Why won’t you look at me
When I am asking you a question?
No, I don’t want any whiskey.
I want answers.
The crew has rigged this vessel
With live armaments ready to explode
Upon my order. So I guess we’re damned
Either way now.
Our loved ones already knew
We wouldn’t be returning
From the way we couldn’t look them back
In the eye after our final embrace.
So it’s your call.
We’re here to support you
As your loyal crew.
But as all men know
You don’t get to pick
Your final home.
It picks you.
D.H. Lee
(via Swanksalot)