Nick Cave And The Bad Seeds - Cabin Fever

The Captain's fore-arm like bunched-up rope with A-N-I-T-A wrigglin' free on a skull'n'dagger and a portrait of Christ, nailed to an anchor etched into his upper... O o o' Cabin Fever! O o o' Cabin Fever! Slams his fucken tin-dish down Our Captain, takes time to crush Some Bloo-Bottles glowin in his gruel with a lump in his throat, and lumpy mush Thumbing a scrapbook stuck up with clag and a morbid lump of Love in his flags. Done is the Missing, now all that remain Is to sail forever, upon the stain Cabin Fever! O o o' Cabin Fever! The captain's free-hand is a cleaver which he fashions his beard, n' he rations his jerkey! and carves his peg outa the finest mahagony! Or was it Ebony? etc... Tallies up his loneliness, notch by notch For the sea offers nuthin to hold or touch Notch by notch, winter by winter Notch x notch, winter x winter Now his leg is whittled, right down to a splinter O o Cabin Fever! O o o Cabin Fever! O the rollin sea still rollin on! She's everywhere! now that she's gone! Gone! Gone! O Cabin Fever! O Cabin Fever! Welcome to his table, Beloved-Unconscious Raisin her host of hair from her crooks and strugglin to summony one of her looks! His arm now like coiled s-s-s-snakes Whips all the bottles that he's drunken, like crystal - skittles about the cabin, of a ship they'd been sailing Five years sunken... etc...