He tried too hard to live
He tried too hard to die
And when he found something in between
He always had to say goodbye
So he decided to just go on
To never find a reason
And he sailed the seas
And he found the gold
All the treasures within
Now he's back
Watching all of us
Knowing we are
What he never could have been
He lost his life
To the oceans wide
He lost his future
To the waves
The salts took it far
And now he's left alone
Hiding so very far away
So he was stolen
By the ocean
Taken
By the sea
Returned an empty shell
To tell stories
To you and me
All pirates tell tales of the open sea. It is the select few that tell tales of dry land. Those are the ones you must listen to, for they will teach you what it means to be a pirate. One such pirate was my greatest friend. But pirates like that never last very long. And that is true of the pirates in my story.
Will Turner was born to true pirate blood. And he could have followed, had he been raised the right way. But he wasn't, not at all. He was to be a blacksmith. And a fine blacksmith he would be. But a pirate he could not be.
He tried to join me, that he did. Claimed his love for me would make up for anything inadequate in his understandings of a pirates life. And it was all well and good in the beginning. Everything was perfect. Will could fight with a sword, and he had no trouble fighting off the Royal Navy.
But it began to fade away. Slowly Will grew tired of the sea. His mind wandered to a settled home. Anywhere. Somewhere. On land. He never got drunk. He would sit in the pubs and watch us. I still remember that. He would watch us. With a little smile on his face and this sadness in his eyes. I was too drunk then to think about it, but now I have nothing else to consider. He was never truly happy.
I loved him. I tried to love him more then any before. But a pirate is not meant to be loyal to one alone. What else is a crew for? He never grew jealous, never seemed to grow angry. But that sadness grew.
He could never seem to smile after that incident with Gibbs. That was when my blacksmith lost his shine. He never smiled. His eyes seemed to radiate sadness. He just wanted me to hold him. He lost weight, his tears staining my shirt in his sleep.
Will never asked to leave. He did anyway. He started to sleep more. He rarely moved. I tried to get him to eat. He wouldn't listen. So I had to watch him fade away He grew skinnier and skinnier before my eyes. Until he could fit in my lap, curled up in a ball. I hated that. But there was nothing I could do.
I woke one morning to his body cold against mine. It was no true surprise, but it hurt nonetheless. I did cry for him, though I exited my cabin dry eyed. The crew mourned his death. And they were horrified when I insisted he be buried on land. But they obeyed me in the end.
I think he would have thanked me. But I guess it won't be long before I know. The sea isn't the same without him anymore. And there's nothing else for me. So I'll join him. No blood has never bothered me. So why should my own blood? Even when it's my own fault, it doesn't bother me. So it seems the easiest way.
Wait for me Will. . . I'll be there soon. . .
He tried too hard to die
And when he found something in between
He always had to say goodbye
So he decided to just go on
To never find a reason
And he sailed the seas
And he found the gold
All the treasures within
Now he's back
Watching all of us
Knowing we are
What he never could have been
He lost his life
To the oceans wide
He lost his future
To the waves
The salts took it far
And now he's left alone
Hiding so very far away
So he was stolen
By the ocean
Taken
By the sea
Returned an empty shell
To tell stories
To you and me
All pirates tell tales of the open sea. It is the select few that tell tales of dry land. Those are the ones you must listen to, for they will teach you what it means to be a pirate. One such pirate was my greatest friend. But pirates like that never last very long. And that is true of the pirates in my story.
Will Turner was born to true pirate blood. And he could have followed, had he been raised the right way. But he wasn't, not at all. He was to be a blacksmith. And a fine blacksmith he would be. But a pirate he could not be.
He tried to join me, that he did. Claimed his love for me would make up for anything inadequate in his understandings of a pirates life. And it was all well and good in the beginning. Everything was perfect. Will could fight with a sword, and he had no trouble fighting off the Royal Navy.
But it began to fade away. Slowly Will grew tired of the sea. His mind wandered to a settled home. Anywhere. Somewhere. On land. He never got drunk. He would sit in the pubs and watch us. I still remember that. He would watch us. With a little smile on his face and this sadness in his eyes. I was too drunk then to think about it, but now I have nothing else to consider. He was never truly happy.
I loved him. I tried to love him more then any before. But a pirate is not meant to be loyal to one alone. What else is a crew for? He never grew jealous, never seemed to grow angry. But that sadness grew.
He could never seem to smile after that incident with Gibbs. That was when my blacksmith lost his shine. He never smiled. His eyes seemed to radiate sadness. He just wanted me to hold him. He lost weight, his tears staining my shirt in his sleep.
Will never asked to leave. He did anyway. He started to sleep more. He rarely moved. I tried to get him to eat. He wouldn't listen. So I had to watch him fade away He grew skinnier and skinnier before my eyes. Until he could fit in my lap, curled up in a ball. I hated that. But there was nothing I could do.
I woke one morning to his body cold against mine. It was no true surprise, but it hurt nonetheless. I did cry for him, though I exited my cabin dry eyed. The crew mourned his death. And they were horrified when I insisted he be buried on land. But they obeyed me in the end.
I think he would have thanked me. But I guess it won't be long before I know. The sea isn't the same without him anymore. And there's nothing else for me. So I'll join him. No blood has never bothered me. So why should my own blood? Even when it's my own fault, it doesn't bother me. So it seems the easiest way.
Wait for me Will. . . I'll be there soon. . .