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Pulling the weight up against the wind |
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The plight of the galley slave |
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Chained to this cold bench, six to the oar |
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Sentenced to an early grave |
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With iron in our souls and fire in our wrists |
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Slicing the waves and the sea |
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Rotting below, they'll not let us go |
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Only mutiny or death set us free |
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Arms grow numb and the blood doth drip |
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To the beat of the drum, from the crack of the whip |
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We're damned, to the Galley |
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We're chained, to the Galley of pain |
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Damned, to the Galley |
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We're slaves, chained to the Galley of pain |
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[Narration:] |
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"The salt made the oar handles like shark skin |
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And our lips we're cut to the gums |
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And you whipped us because we could not row |
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Will you never let us go?" |
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Splintered and split, the hands of the doomed |
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Endlessly toil by the hour |
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Bodies broken, shackled with hatred |
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As the soul grows sour |
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Off in the distance, the cry of the gulls |
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And the smell of approaching land |
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With our last ounce of strength, we pull to the shore |
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And dream to escape if we can |
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But Sirens attack, with their songs of love |
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Mermaids surround us as off we shove |
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Our arms still numb and the blood still drips |
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To the beat of the drum, from the crack of the whip |
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Damned, to the Galley |
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We're chained, to the Galley of pain |
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Damned, to the Galley |
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We're slaves, chained to the Galley of pain |
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We're rotting in the Galley hole |
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[Solo] |
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Damned, to the Galley |
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We're chained, to the Galley of pain |
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We're damned, to the Galley |
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We're slaves, chained to the Galley of pain |
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Only death will set us free... |
