Ten times ten the days are numbered
Passing time across the cloud of Q'Sh
The mystic sat at bow and prayed
Listened close with sleepawake eye
To the whirling of the vapor
Thought he of the proof of his prayer
The final drops in rough stoneware
Cleansed with water cleansed of wine
Seeing, skrying, maybe dying
Maybe soon the blood knives flying

Pilot daydream wasting hours
No port of call to cast his flowers
With lust he wandered far from shore
Adventure to the Lands of Whore

Steady in her courseless
Navigate through shroud
Scroll a shuttered lantern in the
Hand of White Noise propeller

Ghoul in black that pulls the strings
Admires how the airship sails
Knife in pocket turns
Yonder sleepawake eye
It burns

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Something here isn't right
Stealth and search second sight
Hear the giants groaning
Deep below propellers droning
Feed the lies that keep them going
Feel the knives feel blood flowing
Three fools embark upon disaster
Three plots three plans emerge as master
A cup of silence to drown the others
Draught of greed whispers opal

(The spying Warden watches from his Tower in Secret
Using an Esoteric magnifying Glass
But the dusty Mystic never sensed it.)
Passing time across the clouds of Q'Sh
Thinking thoughts planning plots
Sleepawake eye inaccessibly cries
Raises his hand anchor falls
Here where we stay
Here in the gloom
Here in the gray of the sail
Here is the tomb of the Grail