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The Palos de la Frontera is set

And the men, they gather their gear

Santa Maria she breathes a breath, the breath of a terra incognita

Voyagers return from the west region

With a pestilence rooted in flesh

Their turgid sores harbor a bone-deep rot

And is a lac from the terra umbra

Knights and kings, priests and thieves

None are spared these seeping wounds

Knights and kings, priests and thieves

None are spared the seeping wounds

Jaws collapse, and skulls exposed

The Pinta is engulfed in flames



Hispaniola now under siege, my men hath killed the indigenes

Santa Maria she breathes a breath, the breath of a terra incognita

Kick the hawser bitt! Raise the mastcloth! The wastrels man their posts!

The Palos de la Frontera is set

Naples will rot away

Bejel sweeps across the plains

No cure, no mercy...