..::Welcome hither, as is the spring to th'earth;
And hath he too exposed this paragon to the
fearful useage (At least ungentle)
of the dreadful Neptune...::
The Winter's Tale
William Shakespeare
. . . .
.::Set like a jewel in the sea of Sirens
Atlantis by Antares ruled
Rides crystal waves
That set the blazing sun atremble::.
Jose' Arguelles
The Arcturus Probe
* * * *
Yeats and Daryl stood over Jack, who now lay abed in a private healing chamber, having been delivered at last from the starship's med unit where he'd undergone laser, and other, surgeries, ministrations, repairs, tests and survelliance for the past few hours.
'He's...alright now?' Daryl's voice wavered, unused to brevity, and expressing care, perhaps. Hard to feel for others that which was unknown to himself, however, and
this Yeats understood about the man; he, Daryl, had lived alone and as an island his entire life long. His brother, Drake, had tried to cast Jack in that mold as well. And so, this had been Daryl's mission; to free Jack from a solitary life of frozen emotion and robotic relflexes. Like his own...
Yeats inhaled. 'He will be. Resiliant lad, always, Jack.' He put a tentative hand upon Daryl's shoulder.
'We caught him just in time...'
Daryl wheeled away from Yeats, dropping into a handy seat, head in hands...then sat back, shaking his head.
'When I think of what might have...to see it all, happening again!'
Yeats knew Daryl couldn't help but replay the awful scenes past of his failed rescue attempt of Jack's parents from the very same horror that Morgana and Flubber had just sought to reprise.
'How could you know?' Yeats was firm, but gentle.
'You're a sane man. One cannot always see the future. None of us think like the unbalanced, and, perhaps obsessed...'
Posessed, more like...Daryl thought to himself. He stared at his nephew's limp form, bruised and battered with vicious black and blue welts. The cuts and gashes had been lasered and closed, healing now. And although his internal injuries had been seen to, still much time was needed for Nature to heal his wounds.
'He's a strong young man; he'll heal,' Yeats reiterated. 'But it will take time. Jack's lucky the Van Horns have such hard heads.'
Daryl ventured a side glance to Yeats at that jibe.
Undaunted, Yeats continued, 'Amazing he was only concussed. But, being so near the malignant Crystal...well, that will take some healing time as well. According to Thelene, it's influence can...alter, realign, the etheric/electric body and meridians. Rough magic, indeed. But here, Jack is in good hands. Back home, any mundane medicine would likely be useless to him.'
Daryl sat as if stunned, and strangely silent. He had been thus since his arrival onboard.
Yeats took a long look at Jack, and knowing he would likely not awaken for many hours yet, put a gentle hand upon Daryl once more.
'Come. Jack needs rest, and we've done all we can at present. There are other matters which require our attention.'
Obediently, Daryl rose and followed Yeats out, not taking eyes from Jack until the door sealed behind them.
Walking through the corridors of the immense ship, Daryl at last took notice of where they now were...and tried to recall how he'd come to be here.
He had found himself arrived here, after bidding farewell to Emlyn's friends; removed suddenly from Nob Hill House, only to discover his whereabouts, deposited seemingly, in the midst of controlled chaos with Yeats before him, yelling to follow him to the hatches below, as he had just effected Jack's timely rescue; other than that, he'd barely had a chance to realize the basics of who and what; never mind the how, of now.
As they rounded about the curving hallways, Daryl noted the exposed sloping struts betwixt sections which appeared to be of polished copper with odd rune-like characters etched upon them. At last Yeats halted and pressed a door chime. They then entered a spacious room with one long curving window showing only grey and white cloud beyond, with occasional patches of blue.
The control panels, screens and hovering holoprojections were all familiar to Daryl, but the old-style look of the tables and curving couches bordering the sides of the ship, gave him pause.
'This...is an old ship?' He enquired.
At that, the sealed door opened and Axelis entered, filling the space.
'An old ship, indeed! Fa'ilte and welcome, Daryl Van Horn.'
Daryl made a slight bow. 'My thanks to you and your ship for the timely rescue of my...of Jack.' And, although he had found himself in otherworlds and with beings unknown to the mundane plane, Daryl had rarely interacted in Real Time, or in full consciousness with such beings. He found himself trembling slightly.
'Have a seat, old man...' Yeats took his arm and guided him to one of the curving couches, taking a seat as well. Meanwhile, Axelis had moved over to the wall panels and touched a screen, producing a hot mug of warm liquid. This he handed to Daryl.
'This may help with your acclimatization.'
Daryl drank, and his tremors ceased immediately; a warm feeling of well-being washed over him.
'This...is amazing! I feel, ah, very well.'
Axelis spoke: 'We call it: 'ataraxia'. We have found that visitors are more relaxed by the familiarity of the warm cup...I could, of course, merely touch your forehead and all would be...very well.' He nearly smiled then, and seemed to be enjoying a private joke.
Undaunted, feeling more himself, Daryl rallied. 'An old ship, you say?'
'She is.' Axelis straightened, seeming even taller than his, what--8 feet or so?--and gazed out the stunning porthole. 'It is not ours, per se, but loaned to us for a time. It is an ancient Pleiadian war-ship. Our long-chogaidh!'
Daryl was awestruck at this news. Knowing the Pleiadians to be long regarded as a peaceful race, it must be ancient indeed.
Axelis smiled then. 'Yes. 'Time out of mind,' you would say, the aeons past when last this War-wolf saw action.' He deigned then to lower his formidable presence into a seat alongside the two men.
'The League has many friends. And few enemies.'
His gimlet gaze scanned Daryl as with xray vision.
Daryl felt rather naked under the tall Elder Kelt's scrutiny, but decided to drink deeply of the becalming ataraxia, knowing that he hadn't much choice of action in this particular here-and-now.
And, too, he was suddenly aware he was sitting with his beloved Anara's paterfamilias. As Jack might be, someday, were he with Emlyn...and if Axelis were indeed, their father.
So, were the couples to marry, would that make Jack his brother-in-law as well as his nephew? Naturally, that was not an option for himself, or Anara, Daryl knew.
Still...all was rather boggling to the mind. Good thing his body gave not a ratspatoot at the moment.
'Again, our thanks. It was nothing short of a miracle you found Jack when you did.' Keep on the good side of the eight-foot giant with the warship, thought Daryl.
Come to think on it; probably for the best he would not wind up with an eight-foot tall father-in-law with a warship...
Axelis smiled that small smile once more, and nodded. 'Indeed,' he replied, startling Daryl back into his mug for a moment, wondering if his thoughts had been heard.
'Our good Yeats here, you must thank for that. He, together with Thelene, sent us the warning.'
'...And, Anara, who alerted us.' Yeats added, as he looked at Daryl; who noted Yeats seemed quite serene and at home in this ultramundane environment. Perhaps he'd also imbibed a dram or twa of ye olde anorexia as well...? But, what was that about--?
'Anara...is she...?' Daryl sat forward, eager now, his gaze searching.
But Axelis was shaking his head. 'Not on a warship! Thelene, sometimes will visit here, but not our Anara. She must remain where all is safe and secure; far beyond such rents in the Order of things...' He stood then.
'As to those who were the perpetrators of this... unexpected detour in our travels, "they have sown the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind".' He nodded to them. 'My duties call me to the bridge. Rest easy, now. Here, you are in good hands.'
Daryl still felt becalmed, but his whirling mind betrayed that peaceful patina. In particular, he couldn't stop thinking of this talk of a 'warship',
and all that might mean.
'So, this is an ancient Pleiadian warship.' It wasn't a question. It was a most uneasy and glaring fact of their current situation.
Yeats, strangely, smiled at that.
'Axelis makes much of his 'War-Wolf' and 'warship', true. However...' Yeats stood and turned about, looking out the massive porthole. 'However, it is mostly just for 'show' and a red herring...as well as bait.
'To flush out certain other parties, and to give them pause, as it were.' He looked down at Daryl then. 'As a magician, you should know about sleight of hand.'
Watch what I wave about over there, and look not at the
palmed card here. I see. Daryl felt somewhat mollified at this. However...
'I'm not sure how happy I am to think of Jack--as well as we, ourselves!--as worms on the hook here!'
'Jack will not be here long. Neither will we.' Yeats began to pace along the curved window. 'Axelis offered this singular ship for Jack's rescue, only at Thelene's behest.' Yeats ran a hand through his wild, white mane.
'...It isn't easy to explain in so many words, but...
the crystals used aboard ship, are of the same matrix as the Atlantean Crystal. It is one of the very few ways in which such a near approach to the malignant thing could be made, without being sucked into its hypno-magnetized alternate-universe grid-cage.'
You said a mouthfull, thought Daryl. But he only asked, 'Is that where...John and Morgana are, then?'
Yeats ceased pacing. 'One hopes not...I'd not wish that karma-in-action on a cockroach. Although, I suppose it is possible. Most likely they went, ah, elsewhere to their reward...'
Reaping the whirlwind, thought Daryl. Odd of old Axelis to quote the Bible. Then...perhaps not, he decided, recalling the Nephilim.
'Axelis...his ship and crew, have done us a great service, then. Truly, a Herculean task.'
Yeats smiled. 'Axelis is rather Herculean himself, yes?'
Daryl couldn't argue with that...in any tongue.
Then he thought of Axelis' daughter, Anara; the love of his life. He hardly felt her equal upon any scale.
But Maat weighs the balance. Perhaps it was soon to tip into a new and favorable direction.
. . . .
Daryl found himself waking in another sleeping chamber, much like Jack's and spartan, still aboard ship. He recalled then that Yeats had insisted he rest; although he had been plagued by worries about Emlyn's fate, now that Jack was rescued and appeared to be recuperating safely enough here...
Stretching, he had to admit he felt more the thing; fast and furious interdimensional flights and shifting frequencies had a disorienting effect upon 3-D corporeal human-kind. Flexing arms and legs, Daryl thought: yep, still in the material body. A quick shower, and see how Jack was faring were first on his agenda. Maybe a wee cuppa and sommat in his stomach...still living in the material world, as George Harrison once noted, then.
He found Yeats in Jack's room, and saw that Jack's color seemed much improved and the marks on his body were nearly healed.
Daryl sighed, relieved. 'He looks much better than yesterday.'
Yeats looked at Daryl quizzically, but only nodded. 'Physically, he is much improved. We are still maintaining a close watch upon his other, more delicate systems and how the healing goes there.' He looked at Daryl.
'How are you? Rested up somewhat?'
Daryl smiled a wintry smile, nodding.
'Let's get something into you, then. Tea and some real sustenance, eh?' He took Daryl's arm and steered him to the door. 'Now that you are more rested, we can talk in earnest. Don't worry,' Yeats noted Daryl's concerned gaze still locked upon Jack, 'there will be plenty of time for you to see Jack. He will benefit most by rest, now.'
Back to the familiar room with the viewing porthole, Yeats punched in an order for tea for them both, fruit and, at Daryl's request, mushroom and vegetable quiche
with kelp seasoning, and a bowl of hot miso soup with wakame. He felt protein, saline and iodine-deprived.
Delivered pronto, hot, into the receiving station, Daryl sat at the counter gazing out the wide window and set to.
'Not bad, for ship's galley fare, eh?' Yeats teased. Daryl knew this was a ship like unto no other; and he could feel his body's hungry cells soaking up the proteins and nouishing vitamins and minerals.
'Much better. I felt in need of grounding.' He sipped his gunpowder tea. 'Indeed. I feel a new man aready. But truly, Jack will be alright, won't he? The crystal did no...permanent damage?'
Yeats stood at the porthole, hands in pockets, gazing outside. Still in cloud-cover, Daryl knew that they were, effectively, cloaked besides.
'You, we all here, were not in the crystal's vicinity long, however you must admit you feel much more disorientation than is usual for just timewalking, or dimension-hopping, yes?'
Daryl nodded, frowning. 'Yes. What do you mean by 'changes' in Jack?' He was no longer hungry.
Yeats sighed, and sat upon the couch curving alongside the walls of the room. 'Actually, we aren't completely sure as yet. 'Jack appears to be...travelling.' He put a hand up, to forestall Daryl's rising panic, as Daryl had himself risen, and was now looming over Yeats for a change.
'Don't hover so. He's fine. Do have a seat, Daryl, and I shall explain...'
Daryl grabbed the teapot and his cup and took them to the wall-table beside the couch, poured and sat, knowing Yeats would get around to The Point sometime seeming aeons from now...
'I'm all ears.' Daryl challenged.
'Jack's traveling-body does appear to 'check in' from time to time with his physical self. So, there is no permanent severing of the cord. But, it is a bit of a mystery where he goes...and what he brings back...' Yeats rubbed a finger over his chin in thought.
'We will know more with Thelene's report, soon.'
'What do you mean?' Daryl's hands were not as steady as they had been a minute ago, Yeats noticed. Steady on, old man...
'Well...he does wake on occasion and speak. But sometimes, we can't decipher what he is saying, or what language he speaks. At times, true, he does speak English, but it all seems rather...technical; although what exactly it relates to is a bit of a mystery. Also, he doesn't seem to focus on his physical surroundings; even eyes-open, he doesn't see us, or react to stimulus about him. Yet.'
'I thought you said he would be alright!' Daryl demanded, although his eyes pleaded with Yeats.
'Actually...yes. He's fine. Probably, more than fine...' Yeats flicked an odd glance Daryl's way.
'He seems...in many ways, to be much improved, beyond the norm.' he sighed, 'Even at Jack's young age, there should be some cell damage, slowing of certain systems and synapses...but no. All repaired, like new. He appears to be physically the same age, but it is as though...he inhabits an entirely new physical body.'
Daryl's frown deepened. '...Like a, clone?'
Yeats frowned as well. 'Strictly speaking, yes. However, we don't believe that is the case, in actuality. No worries there. It is the 'primordial' Jack, just, 'new and improved'...'
Madison Avenue sales slogans did not reassure Daryl. He was about to challenge Yeats, when the door chimed.
'Enter,' Yeats called.
The door slid open soundlessly, revealing Thelene at the threshold, in all her Otherworldly glory; she appeared, to their eyes, to be bathed in a glow from within, making her skin appear translucent.
Both men stood, out of respect; but also pulled, Daryl felt, by a need to bask in her natural luminosity, as if by simply being in her presence, they themselves would absorb and reflect such Light as she.
'Thelene...' Yeats took her hand and led her within. He held her hand with both of his and they gazed a while into one another's eyes. Yeats tore his sight from hers at last.
'Ah, you know Daryl, naturally.'
'My Lady...' Daryl offered a small bow her way.
'Daryl...' Thelene nodded to him, and sat. 'Do be seated gentlemen. I shan't be long.'
She fixed him with her steady silver gaze. 'Due to certain...changes of late, Axelis has requested that I explain more of our mission to you now; as you, Daryl, may have harbored some...misconceptions, regarding the League and our presence amongst your people.'
Yeats sat beside Thelene upon the couch, while Daryl took the seat on the other side of the small table.
'I am eager for any words you may have to impart, my Lady.'
Daryl found his heart rate increasing and tried not to tremble as he had in Axelis' presence. He had, of course, interacted with Thelene and others of the Sidhe, but, never in full beta consciousness. He wondered if a bit of that ataraxia was perhaps handy...
Intuitively, Thelene smiled, and lay a hand upon Daryl's arm. He felt awash suddenly by a warm wave of relaxation.
'There. I'm not so awful, now, am I?' Thelene teased.
'Quite the opposite, my Lady...' Daryl merely sat, quiet and still for a change.
Thelene glanced at Yeats and they locked eyes a moment.
'That is well, then,' she replied, regarding Daryl once more. 'For I have news of some import.' Daryl nodded for her to continue.
'This...disclosure comes about somewhat sooner than planned, mostly due to the, transition, having now taken place with young Jack.'
The calmness Daryl had felt was quickly vanishing.
'You mean, the effect of the crystal...?'
'Yes.' Thelene sighed softly, and sat back against the couch. 'Do still thyself Daryl...' she held his gaze with her own and he did feel himself relaxed once more. 'It isn't bad news! Quite the opposite...so you must take hold of yourself, and just listen.' She waited, holding his gaze with her own until Daryl's breathing slowed and his facial muscles showed less strain.
'Very well, then. As you may realize, there is a Universal Code, if you will, whereby developing cultures
are to be left strictly alone, to evolve at their own pace without intercession of others. A Law of Non-Interference.'
Daryl nodded slightly.
'This is all well and good, for the most part. However, for us, the Tuatha de Danann, who, along with Axelis' folk, the Kelts of lost Kantek; in short, we who are, in part, the ancestors of your people...it goes hard for us to watch our children become so abused and enslaved as they are now upon your world. Trapped, in a seemingly never-ending cycle of ignorance and lies, and imprisoned in this slow hell for countless aeons...while we were made to watch, and do nothing.
'This, naturally, makes us heart-sore, and we suffer with you. But, it was decided no longer do we merely watch and wait and wring our hands in grief...especially when the entire planet's existence seemed to now be at stake!
'And, so, we, much against the wishes of the High Council, and others, had implemented a Plan, which, strictly speaking does not go against the mandates of Non-Interference. However,' Thelene emphasized her words with consequence, 'This Plan, long in the making, should ultimately free your world.'
Daryl could grasp this somewhat, however, he couldn't help but ask: 'What has this to do with Jack?'
'Patience. Still much needed upon your world...' Thelene smiled softly, however. 'I was just coming to that, young one.' She blinked at Daryl and momentarily he saw elf-lights dance in the corners of her silver-reflective gaze.
'Our Plan, then, was to add our own genetically-enhanced material, to your own. As we are the progenitors of the Keltic race, you were of our own make and making, as it were, and our altogether salubrious 'upgrades' should be absorbed and assimilated quite naturally and without rejection or resistance by the host subject.
'No, Daryl,' she shook her head, holding up a slim white hand, seeing Daryl shift and begin another inquiry, 'recombinant DNA it isn't. We are the same species, recall. We are merely more evolved. Some many thousands of years ahead of your people...but of the same basic 'stock', as you would say.'
'The reasoning behind this bold move, was to further your peoples' evolution somewhat, so that you could be able at least, to see The Great Trap set upon your world, and to avoid it, thereby granting your release and escape from what, elsewhere, is known as 'The Prison Planet'. You can see, what others cannot at this point. Most are simply willing sheep, to follow their leaders to their useless slaughter...to die as they have lived, like beasts used only to enrich the privileged few.'
'A built-in bullshit-detector,' supplied Yeats, crudely, but helpfully...
Daryl was frowning and nodded slightly. 'Yes, I have long thought as much. And, attempted to pass the word along, to those with ears to hear, as they say... It always was utterly amazing to me, how others could blithely go along with whatever the government or society deemed the norm, or even, what was 'best', when it seemed so obviously, glaringly wrong and even dangerous to the point of total world-annihilation!'
'It was even more apparent especially in America, where it was said, 'Fascism would come wrapped in a flag and carrying a cross--'; one might add: 'and a gun.' You could make the people do anything at all, or not do anything!--simply by hiding it neath these handy cloaks. As long as people can kill one another with their weapons of choice, and fall upon their knees to an agreed-upon savior whilst waving a flag, all was well with my countrymen.
'And, when the PTB made it impossible for any but the very wealthy to be educated, it became child's play to bombard the masses with screeching pundits filling folk with fear that what they loved most, more than their own children, would be taken from them: their beloved weapons to kill one another. Mass insanity, sanctioned and bankrolled by the wealthy behind their bunker doors...and it worked, beautifully. Leaving us...' Daryl sighed wearily, '...where we now are...underground, in a virtual world, devoid of air and water, atmosphere irreversibly toxic with poisons...'
Thelene looked with compassion upon Daryl, allowing his outburst, as he so obviously needed to vent. She flicked a eye toward Yeats, who spoke then.
'True, the Others have had more than a hand in the affairs of the world, and for many thousands of years.
And, thanks to the treaty between your country and the Others, They Own You! You abide in what is now their territory! A Devil's Bargain, that!
'But the patriarchy and corporatocracy are poised to fall soon, as the planet has at last come nearly to the end of its ability to host the lifeforms upon it.
'The Others had whispered grand and glorious words of power; all to be had, if the PTB would only join them in their despoilment...which they merrily did.
'What they did not realize, however, that the Others wished the world for themselves alone, and that their earthly minions would be summarily dealt with: to dust; along with the rest. Satraps are rarely magnanimous, in the End...they merely had lesser tyrants do their dirty work for them, before dispatching their little lick-spittals to the hells they so readily deserved...'
Thelene put a warning hand upon Yeats' arm then, with a slight shake of her head. 'No one forced anyone. Ever.'
She regarded Daryl once more.
'A free-will universe it remains. However, without education, a people bound by ignorance cannot evolve out of chains they are unable to perceive.' She folded her hands upon her lap.
'We merely helped our folk to become aware of what lay beyond the veils, somewhat. Helped them, to help themselves.'
Daryl knew all that she was imparting, however...there were questions, still.
'Surely, not only the Keltic progenitors are concerned about their people on my world...? And, if the Others have so much of the planet in a stranglehold?'
Thelene smiled a real smile at last. 'Yes! Exactly! Now you see where the formation of the League began! We found other allies in our quest to free the people of Terra...and, we all were labeled 'renegades',thus!' She nodded.
'The Pleiadian 'renegades', had a hand long ago in the genetics of many Native American tribes; in North, South and Central America, Asia and elsewhere. Sirian brotherhoods oversaw the development of much of Africa and beyond...the list is lengthy one. All, share our quest for your ultimate freedom from tyranny All, exist in what is, to most in your world, an alternate reality or dimension. All, are your ancestors. All, are part of the League.'
Daryl cleared his throat. 'And...as to Jack, my Lady?'
Thelene leaned to Daryl, hand upon his arm once again. And, again, Daryl settled into calmness. She smiled.
'All is well with our Jack. He is, of course, one of our star-seeds. Like yourself.' She nodded.
'You see, the dormant strands of his DNA were programmed at birth; programmed with a time-release sequence of transition, to activate, slowly, and 'naturally' as possible, incrementally. Results of this were noticeable in his high IQ, and inherent proclivities in the sciences...' Thelene trailed off...
She took Daryl's hand in hers. 'Now, Daryl...after Jack came in close contact with the Atlantean crystal, it seems to have...sped up the process. All of his once-dormant DNA strands have been activated, suddenly.' She patted his hand. 'It is something like a spontaneous kundalini-activation, of the yogis and yoginis.
'And it is, ultimately, a good thing. And, well for Jack that we are here, to aid his acclimatization to this new way of being and perceiving. He is, perhaps, closer to our frequencies now, than to your own.'
Daryl's frown deepened. 'What does this mean, Thelene. It is worrying, all...this...'
'Jack will be fine,' Yeats sat forward, hands clasped. 'He...is still the same young man you knew. And, then some. However, he will be needing some time and space to realign himself with his new...abilities.'
'Which is why, we have kept him here with us this long,' Thelene continued. 'Now that we know what has transpired, we can better guide him, and give him all he may need, while he is...processing the changes.'
'Soon, however,' Yeats added, 'Jack will be able to return to Crowley Place. It will also help him to heal; being back on Terra firma and in familiar surroundings.
I have informed Dr. Parsons of what has transpired, and we, of course, will be nearby in case of need.'
Daryl nodded, seeing more of the big picture now. Although he himself, needed time to process it all, as well... However, now with Jack back on the road to recovery, although somewhat rocky, perhaps he now would be able to turn his attention to his other problem: Emlyn.
'Ah, yes...' Thelene smile was rather rueful. 'We are aware of Emlyn's journeying... But, Gwydion is her distant kinsmen, Daryl! However distant, the Twyleth Teg still are much closer blood-kin to Emlyn than we. And, so, we would not presume to intrude into such private affairs. But, I do understand your...anxiety over her welfare.
'Gwydion is...as he is. He will not injure Emlyn, never fear. And, I believe this adventure will give her much to think on in days to come.'
Days to come...Daryl realized now that he'd no idea of the Time spent here.
'How long...? Ah, that is...in Terran, 3-D terms, When will I be, now, upon my return?'
'Ah, well...' Yeats looked at a non-existent watch absent from his wrist. 'I believe that, should you wish to take your leave of us, you will find yourself returned to Nob Hill, soon in time for the Winter Solstice.'
. . . .
WATCH!!AND LISTEN: WOODEN SHIPS -- CROSBY/STILLS/NASH
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_2e2kC-geMI
WOODEN SHIPS
Intro : D A G Em Am7
Em Am7
Fmaj7
If you smile at me I will understand
Em
Am7 Fmaj7 Em
Cause that is something everybody everwhere does
in the same language
Em
Am7 Fmaj7
I can see by you coat my friend you're
from the other side
Em
Am7 Fmaj7
There's just one thing I've got to know
can you tell me please
Em Am7
Who won?
Em
Hey can I have some of your purple
berries
Am7 Em
Yes I've been eating them for six or
seven weeks now
Am7 Fmaj7
Em Am7
Haven't got sick once, probably keep us
both alive
D A G Em G A D
Wooden ships on the water very free
Em G
A D
And easy you know the way it's supposed
to be
Em G A D
Silver people on the shoreline let us be
Cmaj7 Em7 Am7
Em Am7
Talkin' `bout very free and easy
D A G Em G A D
Horror grips us as we watch you die
Em G A
D
And all we can do is echo you're
anguished cry
Em G A D
Stare as all human feelings die
Cmaj7 Em7 Am7 Em
Am7
We are leaving you don't need us
D A G Em G A D
Go take a sister then by the hand
Em G A D
And lead her away from this foreign land
Em G A D
Far away where we might laugh again
Cmaj7 Em7 Am7
We are leaving you don't need
Em7 Am7 ...
You don't need us
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