Hard winds blowing Across this beach That we hoped for And all of our feelings scattered And all of our ships Sunken for good in the sea Of what is not told
 
From the masts That are breaking Loose sails of cambraia With each measured stroke attempted One less boat Afloat on the sea One more corpse on the beach
 
The day never reached Dies in these changing tides And there's always a day ending Next to the Sargaço Spread out to dry Next to things Hmm, that were not made