Cold is my bed, cold is my hand,
I wait in depths where darkness stands.
No prayer, no gold, no sword can save
The ones I pull beneath the wave.
The sea does not hate.
The sea does not love.
It only takes.
The net is cast, the name is spoken.
The keel is split, the hull is broken.
No hall of gods waits for the drowned.
I drag the brave, the craven down.
From icy shore to burning sun,
The roaring waves sound like a funeral drum.
My greed is old, my net is vast,
The broken and the lost are mine at last.
The waves don't judge.
The waves don't count.
They only take.
Drowned... drowned... drowned...
The sea remembers...
Текст песни для проекта Myrkahav - R;n: https://youtu.be/4DRs4CDJ6p4
Ran
© Copyright: Александр Пульмановский, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126102406351
Свидетельство о публикации №126102406351
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