The tale of a sailor called Johnathan X, who lived in Wales in the late 1800s. His story is one of a someone who refuses to conform to societal expectation, chosing a life of adventure over duty, for which he pays the ultimate price.

It was two days ago when the skull and bones ship came in

and the shadows grew long as a shiver ran right through the evening.

I head every door slam as I stood in the street and just stared

and the call of the sea rose up in my restless young ears.

She said: [bad word] home, [bad word] home, [bad word] home.

And the ocean's as wild as I was as a boy, and she sings,

of fortune and change and the power of a young persons dreams.

When I stand on the sea and the waves crash and howl out our names

it's through nausea and fear that [bad word] to know how we are made.
 [bad word] home, [bad word] home, [bad word] home.

But at 7 years on I grew tired and started thinking of home.

I romanticized fields and the cycles of seasons and farms.

I arrived and I married and I wait for the roots to take hold

but I wake every night to the sound of the sea, so loud

She says: [bad word] home, [bad word] home, [bad word] home.

You forget how to swim once your life doesn't throw you too far.

Like you hope that the land can still hold you, and keep you here, warm.

But I hear and I see and I'm sick of the earth and its gaze

so I'm walking out once, I am walking out, into the waves.

They say: [bad word] home, [bad word] home, [bad word] home.