On the floors of the atlantic are the bons of a man that we fed to the lampreys back in '65.
The bones have been picked clean by hordes of sea anemones who by now have multiplied and died.
And the whole world jumped in the shitter.
We all bathed and drank from the rivers.
Baptized as if we weren't the sinners.
Nobody's ever gonna call us quitters.
Will you love me when I've got more money?
Will you feed me when I get more hungry?
And when I'm lonely, will you call me honey
or leave me laughing cause I'm acting funny?
For nearly a quarter of an entire century
I've been out fighting on these here raging seas
but when my shift is through and I get back home to you
there's only one thing that I really want to.
I just want to dance, dance, dance!
I just want to dance, dance, dance!
Yankee Whalers on the high seas smelled of fresh meat and victory
our guts filled up with our spoils.
We drank from the drum of the captains own rum and we drank by the light of fresh oil.
And the whole world jumped in the shitter.
We all bathed and drank from the rivers.
Baptized as if we weren't the sinners.
Nobody's ever gonna call us quitters.
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