The wind drops like a wounded seagull helplessly below,
The ship is parched by the sun, the sea is all aglow.
If ever one could walk upon the deep,
It must have been a day like this, I know.
Haunted by a hopelessness that grows
Wind that will not blow.

All aboard is rotting and everybody stinks!
How can you write a letter with evaporated ink?
A seascape executed by some unknown hand,
A silent portrait of the damned!

The sun sinks in a burning sea, heaven's up in flames.
We are in the Devil's hands, mere victims in his game.
The ship cries out as if in pain,
And God turns away from this, our shame!
Haunted by a hopelessness and blame
Wind that never came

All aboard is rotting and everybody stinks!
How can you write a letter with evaporated ink?
A seascape executed by some unknown hand,
A silent portrait of the damned!

We die here Godforsaken in sickness and despair!
All hope is now abandoned and death is in the air!
Here comes the reaper with his violin and scythe,
While another sailor slowly dies.
The echoes of the requiem float, to the sea and sky.