Bound to sail these ugly seas and hear the seagull's call
Doomed to hear the rat-tat-tat of the quarter master's call
The salt wind blows the slave boss crows making my skin crawl
As I row this cross of mine to the place of the skull
Hour after hour rowing on this worn out bench
My only crime to do this time was my [bad word] sense
To deny the Son means freedom's won, but I can't deny His name
So I'm chained to this my blood soaked fist rowing 'till I am slain