Ancient Ark - Port in a Storm

The salt eats the oak from the keel to the rail We carry the rot of a century's sail No lanterns are left on the black-water crest Just the drag of the weeds pulling down on the chest The throat of the ocean is open and wide We swallow the foam of an unholy tide Bring the hull to the wood of the pier! Break the mast if it keeps us from drifting! Let the anchor-chain rip through the gear While the breath of the tempest is lifting! Hold the line till the timber gives way We have found our reprieve in the grey! The canvas is torn into ribbons of grief We scraped the cold tooth of an uncharted reef No harbor-light beckons, no beacon is lit Just the scream of the gale where the horizons split The lungs of the crew fill with frost and despair As we climb through the teeth of the vertical air Bring the hull to the wood of the pier! Break the mast if it keeps us from drifting! Let the anchor-chain rip through the gear While the breath of the tempest is lifting! Hold the line till the timber gives way We have found our reprieve in the grey! We bartered our gold for a bucket of tar We buried the compass, we put out the star The belly of water is hungry and deep But the mud of the shallows is where we will sleep Tie the hemp to the ironwood post We are broken, but clear of the coast The water grows thick. The timber grows still. The lungs cease to burn. The horizon is numb. A port in the storm. The water grows thick...