The Soul Cages

A boy child lies locked in the fisherman's yawl
There's a bloodless moon where the oceans die
A shoal of nightstars hang fire in the nets
And the chaos of cages where the crayfish lie.

Where is the fisherman, where is the boat?
Where is the keeper in his carrion coat?
Eclipse on the moon where the dark birds fly
Where is the child with his father's eyes?

He's the King of the Ninth World
Twisted son of the fog bell's toll
In each and every lobster cage,
A tortured human soul.

These are the souls of the broken factories
Subject slaves of the broken crown
Dead accounting for old broken promises,
These are the souls of the broken town.

These are the Soul Cages,
These are the Soul Cages.

"I have a wager," the brave child spoke,
The Fisherman laughed, though disturbed at the joke.
"You will drink what I drink, and you must equal me,
If the drink leaves me standing, a soul shall go free.

I have here a cask of most magical wine,
A vintage that's blessed every ship in the line.
It's wrung from the blood of the sailors who died,
Young white bodies adrift in the tide."

"What's in it for me, my pretty young thing?
Why should I whistle when the caged bird sings?
If you lose a wager with the King of the Sea,
You'll spend the rest of forever in the cage with me."

These are the Soul Cages,
These are the Soul Cages.

A body lies open in the Fisherman's yawl,
Like the side of a ship where the iceberg rips.
One less soul in the Soul Cages,
One last curse on the Fisherman's lips.

And he dreamed of a ship on the Sea,
That would carry his father and he,
To a place they would never be found,
To a place far away from this town.
A Newcastle ship without coals,
That would sail to the Island of Souls.

These are the Soul Cages,
These are the Soul Cages.

-- Gordon Matthew 'Sting' Sumner