He enlists an able deck-hand to wield the drill,
a vortex in his cortex to release his will.
As spiral enters he spins out of control.
All magic circles under those eyes -
mental ventilation won't stifle their cries,
his futility belt all crowded with spies.
His one good eye now all a ghastly squint,
head held together with sorrow and spit.
So much haste, too much speed,
spasm-tongued sermon decreed;
I opened my eyes and I stared right through my 
photographs of you.
I opened my eyes and I choked out through my memory of 
faith.
... a malady on the mainline...
A man of inaction, a greyer of shades.
Prey to twisting frequencies with whom he once played.
Wild of eye and long in tooth,
lies all that are left for our seeker of truth.
A stoop-backed, sad sack, all thoughts side-tracked.
Onrush of water through compromised hull.
I opened my eyes and I stared right through my 
photographs of you.
I opened my eyes and I choked out through my memory of 
faith.
[Abyss stares right through him.]
Crow's nest crowded with cackling crew,
all staring faces peering straight through.
Leering out of this unwitting host,
a-raising the black sails and floating his ghost.
I opened my eyes and I stared right through my 
photographs of you.
I opened my eyes and I choked out through my memory of 
faith.
I shuttered my eyes and I stared right through my 
photographs of you.
I shuttered my eyes and I choked out through my memory 
of faith.