With ruby-coloured pearls,

the golden shore allures,

where before I sought the blind horizon,

seeking, ever-seeking

the madness of a new war to fight.

Yet the sun sets on those days,

The days of anxious desire

and the sea turns to molten fire,

as we tread closer

to the black,

yearning, ever-yearning

for what it is we lack.

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Sword buried in the sand,

armour shed upon the strand

I wander to the edge of the sea

and let its brine wash over me.

There is no more to be found

beyond this golden shore,

My journey ends, my soul at peace,

And here I'll stay forevermore

The heart bleeds, the soul weeps,

I can go no further west,

and so, at last,

and so, at last,

the restless shall find rest.