In the age of electricity and oil, my tugboat ploughs through waveless liquid soil.
Cruising at thirteen knots on pitch black sea.
There´s a strange object on the radars in front of me. Still nothing I can see.
Just an open dreary sea...

Several attempts to contact that what appeared to be the size of a ship.
No response ´till I receive transmissions of hostile nature.
These voices cursing my goddamn name.
Hell, is this witchcraft or am I insane?

All of a sudden a dark silhouette ascends through godlike mist.
While it comes closer, I recognize the image of an old deserted ship.

I am aghast at the sight of a derelict vessel sailing this awkward night, appearing like a black floating cadaver.
There´s not one single man aboard.
Her torn sails cloaking her like a cobwebbed widow, posing against this sad nightmarish horizon.

The temperature suddenly dropped.
My great-grandfather´s clock, just ticking, now stopped.
I am smothered by a sudden shroud of fear.
For there´s a ghost ship ´pon a funereal quest.
With a black bird circling hypnotic around its rocking empty crow´s nest.

Fortunately this atrocious mystery sets sail away from me.
Some sailors claim other seamen beheld such sights.
Most died weird deaths during fog-clad days and nights.
The ship vanished as suddenly as it appeared.
Should I feel fear? Was it even there?