Where the Ships Go To Die

In the night, all is dark, when the moon can't be seen when cool air blows lightly, though cooler still it seems Not a soul in sight nothing living to be found not even the waves dare to make their crashing sound When the ocean is silent, when the bay beckons sleep not even the willows then dare to weep for tonight is the night the ships go to sleep Across the waving beachgrass, and through the deadly peaceful night lies a bay of silenced memories, in a hazy fog of light here all sea fairing vessels go, when their adventures have gone dry And so this is the place, the sacred place, where the ships go to die