They told me it was the last time
Then we'd all be coming home
Two Thousand miles of emptied earth
And a sea that just wanted to close
Barrels of salted heaven
Pushed aside to reach through a pass
Like threading a needle
With no fingers and frozen hands
And no sun
And no son to follow home
In November we hit the bubble
Like a junkie that misses a vein
And we gave our last orders to the winter
Before Erebus and Terror gave way
And by the time l've been forgotten
They'll stumble across my remains
But there's never been a single flower
Laid on an Arctic grave
I could think of worse things
But it won't do any good