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emerging from the haze

at the southeast passage

shes ferried in

on a sea of flames

black as ash from a life of suffering

you can hear her pleas

the sails fly the crossbones high

and theres bullet holes where a flag should be

and shes perfect to me...

port side and starboard

armored to the teeth

armed with a mind of fire

and a crew of blasphemy

we dont need your guns

theres no treasure for sale

here aboard the rat king our voyage is off

next stop: