Red Fire Coming Out From His Gills

King of all lice

Of wood ship building

Believing that his sink is clean

But Mr Sun's too high up in sky

And the sea's far too big for drowning

Erecting fin time

Cut through the ocean waves

One million miles an hour

Faster than a torpedo

Morbid seas

The morbid breeds

Untidy seas

Meanwhile on the wrong side of fences

All killing and dashing of brains

Next to normal life with games and companions

Shouting too loud for him to sing

Are all his blackbirds

Inside the steely metal gut of famous

Action Fish cutting the waves

Firing hot red fire from his gills

The more we steals

The more we feels