My word! My words can’t fathom these eyes: so young, so broken.
Pale as a shell, washed and tossed around on the salt seafloor.
All Seamen on deck could not recognize this poor, pale girl.
She want’s to run, but I know she’ll end up back on the shore.

My word! She grew up fast on deck with all of these Seamen.
Still pale as before; eyes now cracked, stretching to her poor core.
These Seamen recognize her now, but I know her looks stray.
She want’s to run, but I know she’ll end up back on the shore.

My word! Now you’ve done it, little pale lady with green eyes,
You’ve proven your pallor and shattered eyes to this dank floor.
All the Seamen found their place in you; you've come much too far.
She want’s to run, but I know she’ll end up back on the shore.

My word! My words can’t fathom these eyes: so used, so stale.
Pale as a shell, washed and tossed around on this dark, dank floor.
All Seamen on deck didn’t recognize this worn-out girl.
She wanted to run....But she ended up back on the shore.