Too many wine-dark seas need daily traversal, And here the shipping forecast calls for rain. The shipping forecast! What a load of bollocks. You can listen from start to finish And not hear a single word about how a day will feel. Or maybe it's a pale, tired, steganography: Moderate, becoming poor, violent storm 11. Burning up, drowning, torn by wind, and all I can manage is to tell you southwest gale 8 to storm 10. I can point at the moon, exhausted, bored, decaying, And hope you don't stare blankly at my finger.
Thanks to P.R.