Asphyx - Scorbutics

cleaving, pounding forsty waves heading for the south a three-master manned with buccaneers scourges of the new world recognize no law brotherhood of hardened privateers jolly roger fluttering shameless and scornfull 40 loaded beauty guns on deck tortuga awaits them trenches, rum and gold the captured frigate on its way back their last raid succesfull all holdings stuffed with loot the merchant vessel never stood a chance no quarter was givven pennon colourd red stabbing, guttering as its code demands the portugese was scuttled leftovers for the shards great whites feeding wild on piracy after the wine and bloodfloabs they sleep off their debauch speeding on the flush of victory then all of the sudden breaking weather puts an end to their prosperity entering weeks of steerless aimless floating in the calm and the merciless heat rapidly provisions are decreasing no more fruit and vegetables to eat scorbutics ravaging, the terror of the scuruy fluid creatures begging for their god intestinal haemorrhages bones wasting away corroding gristle, urinating blood fatiguing insomnia, teeth and hair fall out the rancid stench of living human rot scorubitcs raving in delirious desperation the last of the freebooters slowly dies amongs the pus, blood, bones and bodies seagulls swallowing dead gazing eyes