We lay the night in anguish
Snakes drawn out by the tide
The compass of decision
Falls always on one side
But many went before us
And still the cries are clear
There is no beauty here
Just the stench of wine and beer
We save no souls
We break no promises
We can do nothing more
Than move on headlong through the gloom
The thorn between our lips
Is the missionaries tune
All men with open arms
Turn their faces half away
Observe as we approach
That we have not come to save
We stand as thick as vines
Though the fruit is torn away
There is no beauty here, friends
Just death and dark decay
