Die Hoffnung With The Fishes
I was bad, if I remember it, would ill beget, deserved what i would get. Slab-shod, from bridge dropped by bent cop and raving quean. I'm submarine, picked clean, barnacled bones and suit of algae. Like I said, i'm better dead. My maritime dream's to be redeemed. Strange seas speak through me, taunting. "Drift." If fishlips would chew at my stone shoes, let me loose, adrift. Wash me away