Believe this as you convalesce: I'm seasick
I'm bleeding from open sores
Four days ago, you said soon we'd hit shore
And finally, we've found this land
For all the gifts the people give,
bloody beaches and severed hands is what we return
I'm kind of nauseous
Either I don't like this, or I'm still seasick
And I find it hard, it's so hard,
I'm finding out you're a liar again
(no, I never said enough)
You gave me what was never yours
You know what? I don't want it