On Stirring Seas Of Salted Blood

Oceans of madness darkened,
Alone on [bad word] she rides,
Lichen, undead, and rotten,
Dripping and dignified. [bad word] with violence upon the wailing storm,
This spectral ship of doomed purgation barrels on awry.

On stirring seas of salted blood,
Condemned to forge her sails forevermore,
Enslaved, her hull will never reach the shores
Damning these waters of irony filth

'Neath the stench of crimson winds,
Her sails of flesh betorn.
Red skeletons are oaring,
The plasma stains their bones. [bad word] cannons fire blindly in the mist,
This haunted vessel lost and damned,
The prisoners of her endless quest.
burial at ancient sea that cannot rest in [bad word] peace,
The crew of wraithlike revenants merely seek peace and reverence from purgatorial permanence.
Their cursed bondage has no end,
On they ride through the throes of endless night
Her will never dies
 [bad word] pointing straight to [bad word] 
And that is where they’re going.
Beaten by curling waves of red,
The storm,
No signs of slowing now.

On stirring seas of salted blood,
Condemned to forge her sails forevermore,
Enslaved, her hull will never reach the shores
Damning these waters of irony filth

Scabbed with the blood of ones they have killed,
The ghosts of war must soldier on.