Loss
A bolt against the ship
The mast came toppling
A slant blow, bashing the skull in
Men were flung into the sea
The brave soul fled the body
Voices...calling my name for the last time
Whisking six of my best men
Scylla made her strike
The soul of Anticlea, dead
The blurred and breathless, dead
Voices...calling my name for the last time
My companions caught in his hands
Beat their brains out
Dismembered them and made his meal
Another brace of men make his breakfast
If I killed him
Death I drank
Voices...calling my name for the last time.