Songtext zu 'Three Sheets To The Wind' von Viathyn

One thousand leagues
I’ve sailed adhered to wayward course
(Or as the drunken crow flies)
If all the world’s a stage, my curtain call is nigh
Under a firmament of sky
I ride the bounding main, but
Tarnished glamour is terra nova’s claim

Boxing compass over bow
Holding fast on every swell
I cast off without a course
Nor a semblance of farewell
How I’ll miss your warm embrace
Nights spent yearning of your gaze
Now I lift this lonesome whiskey cask
And kiss its liquid praise
I am drifting onwards three sheets to the wind

Reeling on the gunwale, grasping if this
Turmoil’s from the sea or just the drink
Maelstrom in my brain of trepidation
If poseidon’s wrath I did incite lie ahull!
Lashing, twisted cables, suddenly the tables
Turn against my humbled state
Strap me to the mast with siren’s lullaby
To ease my passing from this place
Drink up my courage straight to brace the coming storm

(I’ll batten down my hatches)
If all mankind’s an island, then I’m its figurehead
A shepherd for the graceless dead
Alone in my domain, but tarnished glamour is terra nova’s claim
Boxing compass over bow, holding fast on every swell
I cast off without a course, nor a semblance of farewell
How I’ll miss your warm embrace, nights spent yearning of your gaze
Now I lift this lonesome whiskey cask and kiss its liquid praise
I am drifting onwards three sheets to the wind

Swaying with the cadence of my breath and ticking heart
The albatross brings tidings of my death (death is just another start!)
I’ve bottled up this message safe for you; forgive me please
My final thoughts: I fear I am run through
(Through the mist, the reaper caws)
Vengeance of the waves, battalions of slaves
Beating caverns in my hull, drilling fissures through my skull

Is that a glimpse of land? A lifeboat spawned of sand?
No! Madness’ final grasp; it’s just the bottom of my cask
I cast my oars away! I curse the bounding main
As tarnished glamour is terra nova’s claim
Boxing compass over bow, holding fast on every swell
I cast off without a course, nor a semblance of farewell
How I’ll miss your warm embrace, nights spent yearning of your gaze

Now I lift this lonesome whiskey cask and kiss its liquid praise
Boxing compass over bow, holding fast on every swell
I cast off without a course, nor a semblance of farewell
How I’ll miss your warm embrace, nights spent yearning of your gaze
Now I lift this lonesome whiskey cask and kiss its liquid praise
I am lost on glassy desert ocean, broken spirit as my token
Drifting onwards three sheets to the wind
Three sheets to the wind!