Tyrants

The noise that breaks the sleep, it’s deep calling the deep
The ship goes up and down
All the curtains drawn, the lamps are early on
On top, a hundred dawns
The day we stayed inside, the trunks began to slide
Nor awake or nor dressed
Portholes dark and green, over the side into the deep
You know if you haven’t guessed
Six white sharks and the sailors sing — out loud
Wouw wouw wouw
Another tyrant will rise
Wouw wouw wouw
Violent sea, violent skies