41D North-49D West

In April of nineteen twelve, a ship set sail so grand, A tale of wealth and power, a journey well-planned. Warnings were ignored, the ship sped through the night, Men on duty sleeping, Californian unaware of Titanic's plight. Steel and iron rivets, a mix of strength and flaw, A lie repeated often enough will often escape the law A plan, some say, to silence the wealthy few, Who opposed the central bank, a theory that grew. The Titan's tale foretold, in fiction's eerie rhyme, A ship destined, too grand, lost in a moment of time. Could poems and prophecies have seen the fate so grim? Or was it human error, a tale of pride and sin? The wealthy men aboard, with power in their hands, Opposed the Federal Reserve, in its in utero lands. Illuminati whispers, secrets in the night, A game of power, hidden in plain sight. The Samson seen the rockets, but rum toddies dense the sense And the cargo bay was full of seals and will illegally be fenced Some men etched, unsinkable, defied the hand of God, But met its fate in icy waters, a tale forever odd. It's 41 degrees north and 49 degrees west This is where Titanic is laid to rest A century has passed, the theories still remain, A story of the Titanic, in history's refrain.