Dutch Slaver - Thee More Shallows

What could be true does not interest you at all

As if you knew every new fact obscures the truth

A mad orange slave on a slaver ship at dawn

Squinting your eyes and counting waves

But shot back from traveling on a shuttle bus full of queasiness

Headed home and hurtling forward towards a certain doom

As the rain on the windshield streaks down the glass

You notice a fissure, a glinting gold splinter then a sickening crack as your

neck snaps and takes you back

To a different Dutch slaver passing curving cliffs at dawn

With grandpa’s fat wraith directing you onward

While his insect lieutenants hack limbs off with their swords

You squint your eyes and count waves