sure i heard some song about brave ulysses

no i lived that life didnt i

down by the docks watching the sea all day for the black beaked ships

i must really be mad because i can see the rippling sea rushing towards me

i can hear the timbers groan and twitch in that red wine dark sea

i can hear the phantom shouts of the men

its a joke the world has stopped

the morning ruptures and the magic congeals

any enemy has long since looted its secrets

circe is there

the witch

which witch the wicked witch

turn all men into pigs but not me

why not me circe why not me

oh no not you not you my dear

what does she look like

who can tell

you seen one witch you seen em all

you seen one pig you seen em all

sometimes i see a sail sometimes i see a cloud

i climb the hills and i look out at the vast aegean age

at night the witch climbs into my bed

i can never remember the things she has said

her hands on me

her whispering ears

shuddering inside my skin

thud against the night

i’m so confused

what language are we speaking

oh yes be ever so  gentle

my resolve softens as my heart hardens

i fight the same battles over n over

i washed up on same islands

the morning finds me staggering on the strand

i cough up water and sand as i retch up the sea

i lie in the grass under a bong bong tree

warm day comes down all around me

a lagoon morning full of fish

circe fucking with her magic

the rhythmic tide

rockpools swell and empty

whitened columns from an earlier time where pan was exalted

whats it like to die i wonder as i expire in the sun

nice once youve given into it , i’m sure

i see a black sail on a white horizon

i call out to the sailors

at last i am free