He enlists an able deck-hand to wield the drill, a vortex in his cortex to release his will. As spiral enters he spins out of control. All magic circles under those eyes - mental ventilation won't stifle their cries, his futility belt all crowded with spies.
His one good eye now all a ghastly squint, head held together with sorrow and spit. So much haste, too much speed, spasm-tongued sermon decreed;
I opened my eyes and I stared right through my photographs of you. I opened my eyes and I choked out through my memory of faith.
... a malady on the mainline... A man of inaction, a greyer of shades. Prey to twisting frequencies with whom he once played.
Wild of eye and long in tooth, lies all that are left for our seeker of truth. A stoop-backed, sad sack, all thoughts side-tracked. Onrush of water through compromised hull.
I opened my eyes and I stared right through my photographs of you. I opened my eyes and I choked out through my memory of faith. [Abyss stares right through him.]
Crow's nest crowded with cackling crew, all staring faces peering straight through. Leering out of this unwitting host, a-raising the black sails and floating his ghost.
I opened my eyes and I stared right through my photographs of you. I opened my eyes and I choked out through my memory of faith.
I shuttered my eyes and I stared right through my photographs of you. I shuttered my eyes and I choked out through my memory of faith.